(HP) Forgive
by meowlzy
Summary: Caught in a dilemma between his secret love for Hermione Granger and the mission of murdering the Headmaster, what would Draco Malfoy do, and where would his decisions lead him? One choice at a time, this story features Draco's growth in the last two years of Hogwarts. Mainly from Draco's POV, yet change of POVs exists.
1. Chapter 1 Unwitting Hesitation

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognizable belongs to JK Rowling. I also do not own this fiction, since it is a translation from a Chinese fiction. Here I show my respect for the original author 陈夜枫, who has composed this beautiful story and given me the authority to translate it into English, allowing for more people to enjoy it.

* * *

 **Unwitting Hesitation**

Dusk had fallen. The rays of evening sunlight filtered in through the panels of the long glass windows, making the boy in the end of the corridor glow with warmness. In the twilight he threw a long shadow pointing directly at the gargoyle in the wall, like the hands on a clock pointing sharp at 12.

In the distance the bell stroke seven times, and the September sun reluctantly dispersed the last vestiges of heat. The earth was immersed with night now. The boy's upright and rigid posture finally altered, his fair blond hair shimmering in the darkness. He bit his lip, turned around and made a few steps away, and then halted, moved back to his initial place, restoring to the guarding position. The annoyed expression on his face showed a sheer resentment towards his own uncontrollable behavior.

On the first day of the new semester in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Draco Malfoy, the six year Slytherin student, had already spent two hours standing still outside the Headmaster's office. Should anyone tell him that he would behave like such an idiot for more than ten minutes, Mr. Malfoy would hex him into bits. However, all his life, as he grudgingly admitted, never had he been more hesitated than this – with a full two-hour contemplation, he still couldn't make a decision between yes and no.

"Oh, damn it." By the time he made the seventh display of moving away and turning back, Draco couldn't help cursing himself. He sank down on the stone stairs adjacent to the corridor, wand swirling swiftly between the figures of his right hand. When occasionally his wand touched his left forearm, a gloomy glint flashed in his eyes, marring this sixteen-year-old boy's otherwise soft face.

"Superciliously pompous, self-asserting, spoiled brat, though pretty," a voice rang in the back of his mind, bringing a soft feeling to his heart. He quirked his lips, fingers stroking his sharper chin where stubble emerged in the recent month. He had a sudden impulse to ask her if he was still worthy of this description, then he shook his head, trying to throw off this kind of delusion. There was never a somewhat normal conversation between them in the past, and the possibility of one existing in the future was even slimmer.

The bugle of war had sounded, even if children in the shelter of school pretended not to hear it. Their life had turned a new leaf, a merciless leaf, where you could pretend no more. The line dividing light and dark drew clear, and there was no longer a so-called grey zone. He must hesitate no more.

"Draco, you are here. We've been looking for you."

"Why are you here? Parkinson said you missed the first Prefect meeting."

Two boys appeared at the foot of the staircase, staring at him in bewilderment. Draco strode toward them haughtily.

"I do not need to report to you, Crabbe, Goyle."

"Of, of course, we just …"

"Shut up. Let's head back. You'd better leave your brains to think over your midnight snack."

He took the lead, leaving the corridor, descended the stairs, and headed for the Slytherin dungeons.

 _The whole thing requires more careful consideration. If father knows I should have this idea, he must be mad. Maybe I should tell him first – He's still locked in Azkaban, so there's no way that you can discuss it with him! – You've been dwelling on this excuse for the whole summer! You are just scared!_ A small voice in his mind pointed out.

 _I'm not scared, nor am I escaping from reality!_ Argued him with his other self. _The Malfoys have followed the Dark Lord all along the way, and it's unlikely that Dumbledore will accept a Death Eater family._

 _Then why are you struggling so anxiously to get away from him? Why not stay there and do as told?_

 _No, he regards Malfoy family a worthless, disposable pawn, humiliates us and tortures my father. I cannot bear him ruining the family_

 _What an illustrious cause it is! It can_ _t be more clear that you just don_ _t want to stand opposite her –_

 _This has nothing to do with her! When I have enough bargaining chips I will go to Dumbledore_ _s and do all I can to guarantee the benefit of the family._

 _How long do you need to gather enough chips, Draco? With this little heart bumping irregularly from standing before an office, you are nothing better than a frightening gnome in face of the Dark Lord. How can you achieve anything?_

Draco halted on the stairs, gripping tightening on the handrail. Moonlight poured in through the front arch, shining on him, making his face even paler.

"I can do it," he murmured. "I will show you."

He raised his head and looked into the small sky, grey eyes glistening.

* * *

"What's so important that you must summon me in the first evening of school?"

The moment Draco disappeared from the corridor, another guest arrived at Dumbledore's office. Green flames suddenly rose in the fireplace, and a man in black walked out of it. When he caught sight of the old man leaning back in his chair in fatigue, Snape's impatience became acerbic.

"I've told you not to overuse your magic, otherwise – ha, maybe you forgot your left hand had a tiny injury –"

"Of course I remember, Severus, and therefore I have to hasten some paces lest it's too late." With a wave of his charred hand, Dumbledore replied in a light tone. "Please sit. Would you like Sherbert lemons?"

"No, thanks," Snape answered lamely, folding his arms. "and I'm busy, no doubt owing to brewing your potion, so spit it out."

"About the task Mr. Malfoy Jr. undertakes, do you have any information?" asked Dumbledore smilingly.

"Nothing. I remember telling you that the Malfoys were locked up in the Malfoy Manor during the summer vacation. I didn't even have chance to encounter the boy. Everything needs to wait in the new semester."

"Remus said Bella and Narcissa paid a visit to you on the very last day of August."

"You spied on my house?" Snape raised his brow.

"Of course not. Remus was to fetch my potion from you. He happened to spot the two ladies, so he had to come back empty-handed – Is Narcissa doing well?"

"How can she be! Doting on her son as she has been, she must be under extreme torment – The Dard Lord no doubt has reached his purpose of punishing the Malfoy family, for he never intends Draco to succeed, and he knows Narcissa will come to me – a good test of my allegiance by the way."

"She trusts you?"

"Yes, I swore an unbreakable vow with her," Snape crooked his lips and snorted. "Promised her that I would help her son to murder you."

"It's exactly what I am hoping for. In fact, Mr. Malfoy just left the outside of my office moment ago." Dumbledore beamed heartily.

"What? Was he there laying a trap so you would drop dead the moment you stepped out?"

"Maybe not, as he did nothing but stood there in a trance for two hours."

A slight surprise flickered across Snape's face.

"And you think?"

"I am not sure. And it is up to you to make it clear. Draco looked a little perplexed, but not the kind of panic I had expected him to be. He seemed to be struggling – obviously an unpleasant summer made him pale and emaciated."

"It never occurred to me that you cared for him and note him being'emaciated'."

"I care for every student, always. Thus, Severus, I urge you to get to know his resolve and plan as soon as possible. I am afraid something unexpected is happening on our young Slytherin friend. We must grasp it before it changes everything else."

Though Snape regarded this suggestion a waste of time, he nodded nevertheless before he traveled back by the Floo. Dumbledore fed himself another Sherbert lemon and flashed a smile at Phineas's portrait on the opposite wall.

"Slytherin always breeds simultaneously great villains and heroes – You must be proud of Severus. He is the one of the bravest men I've ever seen."

"Sure," snorted the former Slytherin Headmaster."But he would be one-hundred times more famous had he not mingled with you old coot."

"Fame is alluring and power is the inherent sin. As one gets old, one gets to know that a life-long glory eclipses even a transient moment of peace of mind." Dumbledore fetched a small crystal flask from the tall shelves and poured the silver substance into a stone bowl on the table. "I discovered it too late. Severus is a much wiser man than I am."

"Peace of mind?" Phineas scoffed in an upward tone.

Dumbledore looked down, as memory spun and shimmered in the Pensieve.

"Yes, and till this end we are willing to put up a lifelong struggle."

* * *

The beginning of the sixth year in Hogwarts was unexpectedly quiet. Everyone had prepared themselves for an upcoming upheaval, only to find nothing happening. Draco stood by the doors of the Great Hall, watching the noisy crowd swarming to and fro in the hallway, feeling unsettled. First years inquired classroom locations in a panic; elder students lounged here and there, dragged their bags and chatting loudly; and six years like him busied themselves, comparing timetables and discussing their O.W.L.s results. The school life was too normal, making him feel out of place. Whatever dramatic changes happened in his world, other people's life would calmly go on.

"Harry, wake up! We have Potions in the afternoon. I hope you two will leave a good impression on the new teacher."

Following the voice Draco saw the Gryffindor trio walk out of the dining hall. They obviously were intimidated by the surging crowds, choosing to stand on the higher stairs along the wall like him. Hermione flipped through _Advanced Potion-Making_ furiously and casted warning glances at the two boys. In contrast to her excitement at new semester and new textbook, Potter and Weasley looked miserably subdued.

"I thought I could get rid of those disgusting plant debris and animal offal! I thought I no longer needed to face the infernal cauldron! Why am I … Oh, Merlin!" Weasley groaned loudly.

While Potter patted him on the back in sympathy, it was clear that Hermione was deeply annoyed by their attitude. As she put way her book, preparing to give a lecture on their attitude toward Potions, Draco decided to cut in.

"It seems your nose healed well enough overnight, Potter?"

Not surprisingly Draco saw the expression of the three turn sour in a quite harmonious way. He sauntered confidently towards them.

From the perspective of an outsider, the boy in dark green robes could even be appraised as beautiful, being slender, exquisite, and elegant, like the prince walking down from an oil painting. However, in the view of Gryffindor trio, the fact that his pale blond hair and grey eyes bore a striking resemblance to those of Lucius Malfoy only made them feel a wave of nausea. Two months did not let them forget that it was this man in hood that led a team of Death Eaters to siege and attack them in the Department of Mysteries, causing the death of Sirius.

Draco observed them: Potter and Weasley were glaring at him; Hermione looked away. It had become a habit to insult them at the first sight, and their hatred for him seemed also inherent.

"Say hello to your Death Eater father for me, Malfoy!" Potter growled angrily.

"It's a pity that five years in Hogwarts is not enough to teach you to be polite to the elders." Draco narrowed his eyes and retorted.

* * *

"Malfoy teaching us to be polite!"

"At least I don't eavesdrop or pry into other people's affairs –"

Harry and Ron pulled out their wands. Without his sidekicks a trace of panic flashed across Malfoy's face. Before they could act further, Hermione intervened.

"Go away, Malfoy!" She snapped and elbowed Harry. "Ignore him. I don't want to be late for the first class."

The boys shot daggers at their enemy before they turned away. Fortunately, Malfoy said no more.

When distinctive footsteps sounded steadily behind them, all three of them stopped and turned around, only to find Malfoy striding loftily toward them, a black bag hanging on the back, eyes glued on the floor several feet before him – like a lifeless doll.

Hermione frowned and Ron growled.

"Malfoy, why are you following us?"

As if woken from a dream, Malfoy paused and looked up, his eyes empty. Then he soon recovered his usually cold demeanour.

"Following you? Don't you see it's the only way to the Potions classroom?"

"It's a surprise that you made it into the advance course."

"It's a surprise that Weasley learned sarcasm. I should give you a round of applause, for the pitiful enlargement of your tiny brain capacity. However," Malfoy sneered, quickened his pace, and walked past them. "I've entered the advance course with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L., which makes all the difference from whoever is accepted because of the change of teacher."

* * *

Draco dashed into the classroom, realizing he had come early. There was only a Hufflepuff boy sitting in the corner, fiddling with something like an amulet, showing no recognition of knowing someone had come. Draco leaned against the door, listening to the vague voices of the trio talking about him.

"That bastard Malfoy, I bet he's more and more like his old bat head."

"Come on mate, no need to be angry," said Potter indifferently. "Snape is his favorite professor. Maybe one day Malfoy's blonde hair will be as greasy as Snape's."

The other two snickered.

"And we don't need to compare our Potions' grades with a Death Eater."

"Harry, I don't want to say another time –" Hermione interrupted him.

"I know you don't believe Voldemort will mark him –"

"Malfoy has not come of age and Voldemort does not need a useless minion!"

Draco felt as if a chunk of ice had slid down into his stomach. He was not surprised that Potter guessed right about him accepting the Mark; after all, in their eyes he was a Death Eater through and through, but he felt severely insulted at Hermione's retort.

 _Voldemort does not need a useless minion._

Draco bit his lower lip and suppressed his anger; gradually a wry smile settled on his face. Perhaps he really was a useless minion. The Dark Lord only marked him to see him frightened, to make his parents suffer.

 _Should he feel relieved that his identity has not been exposed, or become agitated by the 'trust'_ _due to this kind of reason?_

 _Whether I'm_ _useful or not is not up to you to decide!_ He thought ferociously, reaching for his wand. For an instant, he wanted to yank open the door and throw a series of hexes, but he refrained himself – It's not a good choice to fight one against three, and he's not going to have Potter revenge for the bleeding nose.

Potter panted at the other side of the door, and as if thinking of something joyful, he lowered his voice.

"He's not in high spirits, is he? He must be suffering from his father's imprisonment, and the Malfoy name has pronouncedly deteriorated."

"Harry, don't be so smug. That makes you sound very Slytherin." Hermione sounded both annoyed and amused.

"You just say it. Aren't you happy to see the pompous git defeated? He broke Harry's nose last night, and Harry was nearly taken back to London." Weasley snorted.

Hermione pretended a humph, but failed to conceal her amusement in the voice.

"Okay, let's hope you can also defeat Malfoy in Potions."

Potter and Weasley groaned. The trio drew nigh. The time Draco sat down behind his desk, the trio had filed in the classroom.

* * *

The instant Hermione turned around to close the door, she felt eyes on her back. She looked at that direction in question, seeing Draco sit in the corner, engrossed in reading _Advanced Potion-Making_ lying on the desk, his head buried in the book.

She suddenly had a peculiar feeling that Malfoy seemed to have heard their talk. Glancing at him once more, suddenly his perfect, cold features reminded her of the old Greek sculptures she had seen, pale and solitude – It's a shame that he's nothing but a fragile coward on the inside.

 _It seems this spoiled brat has had a hard time recently._ Thinking of Harry's words, Hermione felt a slight of pleasure of vindictiveness. Although she stopped Harry's further derision of him, she herself did not feel any less disgusted by him. On the contrary, she could say that she had every reason to hate every Malfoy.

Wishing Lucius Malfoy to rot in Azkaban, Hermione put her bag under her desk, sat up straight, and listened carefully to the first Potions class of her sixth year.


	2. Chapter 2 Desperate Love (1)

**Desperate Love (1)**

"Excellent! Mr. Malfoy has succeeded in performing a nonverbal Shield Charm. Ten points to Slytherin."

On hearing Snape's words Hermione, who did just the same thing five minutes ago shot him a dark look, to which Draco returned with a glance in contempt and provocation. Scarlet with rage, the girl turned to cope with Longbottom; Potter glared even more venomously at Snape, as if trying to burn through his sallow face.

The first four weeks of the new semester witnessed this kind of scenarios occur in every class: Potter somehow made a rising star in Potions, even excelling Hermione who used to be way ahead while DADA became a total nightmare for those Gryffindors under Snape's intimidation.

Draco had never studied so hard before, training himself crazily every day, in an effort to improve his strength as quickly as possible. It was at this time that he found being a Malfoy meant not only appearance and wealth; his magic and brain did not fail him at all. Rising grades, overbearing attitude plus scoff that can always touch a sore spot had made him "the secondly most abominable pain in the ass besides Snape", quoting Harry Potter, who obviously did not take the effort to hide this knowledge from him.

Draco gritted his teeth, forcefully throwing forward a Stunning Spell.

"Ouch! Why have you been so tense lately?" Failing to cast a nonverbal spell, Blaise had to whisper a shield to protect himself; however, he still found his hand a little shaking and his arm numb with the force.

"Because you look more annoying than ever."

"Can't believe my charisma should make Malfoy fall in love with the library."

"Who was the one to have escaped several detentions out of my homework?"

Blaise was rendered speechless. After weighing, he decided to adopt a circuitous strike. "I owe you a lot, dear Draco, but why does your tone sounds somewhat familiar ... Ah, I've got it. It sounds like Granger lecturing her two boyfriends!"

Wham! Whoosh! Two loud bangs startled the whole class and all the other students looked in this direction. Blaise was knocked over by Hermione's nonverbal Stunning Spell, while at the same time the Disarming Spell cast by Draco hit Hermione instead of Blaise, her wand swirling into his hand.

"Return the wand to her, Malfoy!" Both Potter and Weasley jumped to their feet, pointing their wands at Draco and shouting.

"Stop!" Snape dashed over, waved his wand to wake up Blaise and exclaimed angrily. "Practice only in pairs! Gryffindors attacked other students, ten points from Gryffindor!"

"Malfoy snatched Hermione's wand!" Potter bellowed.

"It was the filthy mudblood who assaulted me first!" Blaise was beating the dust off his robes, apparently annoyed at being stunned by Hermione.

"How dare you! You bad-mouthed first –" The two boys pounced upon Blaise in fury, yet they were interfered by Snape with a trip jinx.

* * *

"Enough. It's a calamity to have you three in the same classroom. Surely you are all confident enough in nonverbal spells to disrupt the class, so Potter, do you care to give us a demonstration together with Mr. Malfoy?" Snape commented sarcastically in a cool, silky voice. Hearing that Harry flushed – he had not succeeded in nonverbal spells yet, and to his chagrin Malfoy indeed beat him at it. Snape scoffed, waving his hand to indicate the class to continue.

"I'd like to make a demonstration!" Suddenly Hermione raised her hand.

She had always been an excellent witch, and so angry was she to be disarmed by a good for nothing git that she blurted out those words on an impulse. Harry and Ron excitedly made a "well done!" gesture to her. Snape's dark eyes swept the room and a faint sneer hanged on his lips.

"Well, before you start, Mr. Malfoy, please return Miss. Granger's wand."

* * *

The other Slytherins burst into laughter. Hermione tossed back her brunette hair, standing before Draco, her dark eyelashes veiling her amber eyes. Draco's heart fluttered uncontrollably. He could not even refrain himself from staring at her reddening face dyed by rage.

"My wand, Malfoy." She prompted stiffly. Draco found himself handing over her wand dutifully, which was snatched away fiercely. Before he even realized, a curse had flown in his direction. He cast the Shield Charm in a haste, and was forced to stagger backwards. Students outside the Slytherin House cheered.

"Draco! Don't you lose to a woman!" Blaise thrusted on his back. Draco returned to his initial position, his face reddening a little. Hermione raised her chin and her beautiful eyes were fixed on him, yet they were filled with blatant contempt and disgust.

Draco went pale, his heart turning cold. He knew all the way that they were enemies by nature, spending the whole schooldays figuring how to make each other suffer. He was forever the good-for-nothing bully – a knowledge well established and accepted – yet at this instant he could not bare the look on her face anymore.

They stood on the opposite side, wands pointing in the angle most efficient for attacking each other. However, Draco could not even utter a word – He was so severely and apparently affected by her, a fact she blessedly ignorant of. He was struggling for her, making every effort to deny himself; he was agonizing over her, for fear that he might bring devastation to his family; he was standing before her defenselessly, when he should have mustered all his power to face the life choices that were deriding him. Yet she ignorantly dismissed it all.

* * *

Hermione froze. The boy opposite her suddenly had a chilling air, making her hair stand on end. A spoiled child as Malfoy had been, his pretty look and frivolous behavior only epitomized weakness. In fact, in the last five years he was merely an average student, doing nothing but finding fault with them. However, at this moment her palms sweated as a sudden menace erupted from him. In his grey eyes smoldered a frozen fire that seemed to burn her alive, as if she was the biggest obstacle in his life, a stain that must be wiped out.

Students surrounding them began to sense something was wrong. Snape frowned, ready to separate them when Malfoy's wand made a sudden move – at that instant Hermione felt he was to throw her an Avada Kedavra – yet nothing happened. The bell rang. Malfoy put his wand away and left the classroom without a second glance.

Soon there were only three students left in the classroom.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Looking at Hermione ghostly pale face, Harry and Ron asked worriedly.

She managed to compose herself with all her might.

"He wanted to kill me." replied her quietly.

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

 **Again I claim that a beta reader is needed. Anyone interested is encouraged to contact me.**


	3. Chapter 3 Desperate Love (2)

**Desperate Love (2)**

In his haste to escape, Draco knocked over several people in the way, all of whom staggered back uneasily under his cold stare. His mind was in such a mess that he could not think at all. Walking out of the castle, across the green field and broad Quidditch pitch, he did not stop until Hagrid's shabby hut stood before him.

Malfoys were traditionally egoistic and Draco had never regarded himself as selfless, but it had also never occurred to him that in a moment he should harbor such a perilous thought that how good it would be without her.

 _Even without her, you still cannot escape away ... Draco, you know it. She knows nothing and it's never her fault ... Oh, what have I done ..._

Closing his eyes, inhaling deeply and emptying his mind, Draco employed Occlumency, trying to suppress all those confused emotions and thoughts. He was grateful that Aunt Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency, although her intention was to prevent him from leaking anything to Dumbledore or upsetting her dear Lord's great cause.

She said he should feel honored, had he sacrificed his life for the task. Maybe the only people who cared for his well-being were his parents, among whom his father was jailed in Azakaban, under the excruciation of the Dementors.

Draco opened his eyes, finding a steel-blue monster crouching in front of Hagrid's hut. A hippogriff – and a rather familiar one – it was Buckbeak, the one that had broken his arm. Memory spinning in his mind, Draco stared into the monster's yellow eyes and bowed low to it. Buckbeak snorted and then lowered its head to him.

"Don't bear a grudge, do you?" He walked over, stretching his hand and patting it on the beak. Buckbeak seemed to like his scent, squinting and staffing its large head into his embrace. He pursed his lips in disgust, but allowed it to probe its beak into his sleeve nonetheless. He then sat down behind a giant pumpkin, leaning against the beast's sturdy, steel-blue-feathers-covering body.

 _Father said the beast was sentenced to death. Since it is still alive, there is no question who saved it. The Gryffindor trio always go snooping about. Certainly they came up with some weird scheme and freed this monster for their giant half-blood friend._

Draco raised one hand, touching his left cheek. He still remembered clearly the time when Hermione slapped him because of Buckbeak. She had hit him really hard, and the slap left his face raw for several days. It was the first and only slap he had got in his life, and so caught off guard was he that he forgot to strike back.

When he was thirteen years old, he thought the trio were the most odious people in the world: Scarhead Potter was always stealing the show; Weasel was a pathetic sidekick; and even that insufferable know-it-all dared to think little of him, not realizing that she herself was an inferior Mudblood.

He was so ignorant at the time. He took great delight in finding fault with them, not noticing his intention had varied over the course. Like some falling-in-love idiots, he tried to gain the girl's attention by causing trouble. Each time he saw that beautiful eyes glaring at him in anger or sometimes even in tears, a wave of satisfaction overwhelmed him.

Growing up completely spoiled, he paid no attention to how his words and action had hurt her, nor did he understand his own feelings – he would not even have thought it that way. On occasions when he might have sensed something, he would dismiss it as ridiculous. How was it possible that the Malfoy heir, the noble pureblood, should care for a mudblood?

Only when it was too late that the chilling truth dawned on him. At the Yule Ball of the fourth year, when he stood among the clamorous crowds he saw her descending the staircase, periwinkle-blue dress robe outlining her slender body, hair twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head, and on her lips dancing a nervous, timid, yet strikingly sweet smile. At each of her step, his heart beat faster; he was dumbfounded. When she walked into the Great Hall, arm in Krum's elbow, Draco found in desperation that he was so envious – burning with jealousy. He could not help but watch her swing and spin on the dancing floor, like a glistening butterfly. He also did not fail to notice when she was chatting heartily with Krum, how her smile was more dazzling than the enchanted chandelier. That night as he held his own partner in his arms, he moved just along mechanically, like a dancing machine manipulated by Parkinson to swirl round and round. He could not even remember how on earth he survived the Ball and retired to his bed.

In the following semester, he tried even harder to jeer, to scoff, and to tease maliciously, making every effort to have her and anyone around her suffer. He was eager to see her looking at him with loathing, as if this would kill the feeling that should never have existed, and yet every time he received this look, he saw on his bleeding heart the enlarged wound that had deepened over the past four years to the point of being beyond healing. Every insult, every provocation, and every "mudblood". He was so scared, praying in despair that the instant impulsion would somehow vanish, but it never happened. All was in vain.

She dated with Krum; She cried secretly over the quarrel with Weasley; She was depicted by the newspaper as an ambitious slut; She became the Champion's dearest treasure and was locked under the lake ... Smart, valiant, kind, loyal, she was the pure flower that blossomed in a world distinct from his own. The light radiated from her tantalized him. It was frightening that Draco Malfoy should have observed anyone so meticulously, should have felt sorry for a foe, and should have worried about a mudblood restlessly. These were the signs that he could not turn a blind eye to. The clearer he was, the more frantic he was. He could never approach her – He pained to accept the ruthless reality.

It was until the Christmas in the fifth year that he could bare no more. After the Christmas dinner, holding his father's hand, his mother declared proudly to her cousin Bellatrix that the Malfoys were conventionally most loyal – they had an undying love for their lover that would never wear away over time; callous as they might be, they valued the family over all things. At this, Lucius Malfoy flashed an unbelievably warm smile to his wife; Draco stilled on the sofa, his heart withering.

He swore that it was the worst news he had ever heard. He collapsed in defeat, only frustration and anguish remaining in him. He was in a dangerous situation: Should anyone discover his secret crush, his reputation would deteriorate in the pureblood society, his relatives might murder him in disgrace, and above all the Dark Lord might capture her, killing her as a deterrence or using her as a hostage.

He fell in love with a girl whom he was forbidden to love and who would never love him back. She despised him, hated him, and perhaps would never forgive him all over her life, a result caused by he himself step by step. Now all he could do was forcing himself to preserve an impertinent attitude every time he met her, which was the only protection he could provide her, the last esteem he could save for himself, and the price he had to pay for his arrogance in the previous fifteen years of his life.

Buckbeak hummed softly and rubbed its warm head against his face. Draco found in surprise a trail of cold wetness on his left cheek. Light grey eyes staring into round orange ones, he stroked the rich feathers on its neck and then stood up.

"Goodbye, Buckbeak."

The beast also rose, nodding in a haughtily majestic manner. Draco smiled a little, and walked slowly towards the castle. It was a bright afternoon, and the Quidditch pitch was filled with people. Potter was wearing Quidditch Captain's robes and was shouting at the crowds. Perhaps he was recruiting new players. Weasley was hovering in the highest hoop, wearing a hilarious Keeper hat, his whole body curled up in a ball. Even from faraway his face was still as pronouncedly pale as that of an inferi.

Two of the trio were there, then of course ... Searching in the stands, Draco berated himself for this wayward behavior as he stood still, watching her cheer enthusiastically for Weasley.

That was all he could ask for.

Shifting his gaze away, Draco turned around, finding Snape standing before him for Merlin knew how long, his dark eyes peering through his black hair, as he examined Draco impassively.


	4. Chapter 4 INTERNAL BATTLE

**Chapter 4 INTERNAL BATTLE**

Snape looked dour. Though Snape always wore this expression, thinking of several hours ago him leaving the classroom without permission, Draco felt a little unsure, after all they were not dismissed at the time.

"Follow me. Your mother wants to meet you."

"Sorry, but what...?" Alarmed, Draco hurried after Snape, still skeptical about this, "How has she got in-the school is securely guarded now, and even parcels are checked."

"Of course I have my way. Narcissa is so worried that she might fall ill if she cannot see you. I promised Lucius that I would take care of you and I will keep my word." Snape explained lamely. "And about that task, have you made any progress?"

Awaken from the small joy to meet his mother, Draco felt a thrill of guilty and panic. "Yes, professor, everything goes smoothly." He answered rapidly.

"If you have any problem, you can seek me out and I will help you with all my might."

"Thank you, professor."

Snape said no more and the two arrived at his office in silence. The moment Draco pushed the door open, he saw Narcissa jump to her feet and rush across the room, tears rolling in her blue eyes.

"Draco! Oh...Severus, thank you."

"Take your time." Snape nodded at her, closing the door.

Narcissa cupped his face, sighing over his bloodshot eyes and pinched look. Holding her son in her arms heartily, she inquired even the most trivial things of his life until the boy protested with a red face.

"It's so good to see you are well," she wiped her tears and sat down on the sofa beside the fireplace, "Almost every night I dreamed of you being hurt or being exposed and arrested...Draco, I was so worried."

"I'm alright and I will be careful. Mother, please have faith in me."

"Surely I have faith in you and I am proud of you, but this is too dangerous. It's not a task to be accomplished by a sixteen year old-"

"No! He chose me!" Draco raised his voice to boost his morale; he could not afford the risk to be suspected, "I can do it, mother. You have no need to worry. Everything is going as planned. Father will support this too!" He stared at his mother, conveying a warning when referring to his father.

Narcissa covered her face and wept. "I have lost Lucius and I can't risk losing you, Draco. Should anything happen to you..."

Draco paused for a moment, and then embraced his mother clumsily. "You will not lose me, and after I finish this task, father will come back."

Narcissa just shook her head, holding her son, tears running down silently. After a short pause, there was a knock outside the door.

"You need to hurry up, Narcissa. I only applied for a forty-minute connection of the floo." Snape urged outside.

"It's alright." Narcissa wiped her tears away and whispered in Draco's ear, "though I cannot visit you frequently, I will figure out some ways to help you."

Draco was startled. "You don't need to-"

"Don't worry. I will be cautious not to expose myself or affect you." Narcissa smiled reassuringly, "I have asked Severus. It won't be long before your first Hogsmeade weekend. Don't go out on that day and stay in the Common Room. It's even better if you stay with your classmates so they can testify for you-"

"Mother, what are you planning to do? You can't just come out and people will recognize you!"

"Be assured. I will not do it myself. I persuaded Bella-"

"What? She's a most wanted convict! And she absolutely can't resist doing something exciting. Maybe she will conjure the Dark Mark-She must not show up in Hogsmeade!" Draco was nearly yelling now, totally in a panic at this time.

"Bella promised me that she wouldn't do what was uncalled for. Besides, she's powerful enough not to be discovered."

Draco stopped her anxiously, still trying to dissuade her from the risky plan. Narcissa rose from the sofa, opened the door and welcomed Snape inside.

"Severus, thank you so much. I must be leaving now."

Snape quirked his lips courteously. "Goodbye Narcissa. I wish you a sound sleep tonight."

She smiled, kissed Draco once more on the forehead and then walked into the fireplace, disappearing in the green flames.

Draco knew he must be looking terrible, but he was in such a mess that he did not have the effort to compose himself. Therefore, he said goodbye to Snape stiffly, pretended not to have heard his questions and returned back to the Slytherin Common Room.

About ten students formed four circles, conversing softly or reading quietly. Blaise was flirting with a fourth year girl in a corner. Catching his appearance, the boy jumped up from the girl and walked over laughing. "Draco, I heard Gryffindor's Keeper is-you look terrible-what happened?"

Draco managed his typical sneer. "Nothing. Just tired."

XXX

One week flied. Draco continued to study efficiently every day, spending more and more time in the library, in an effort to allay the struggle and anxiety in his heart by engrossing himself in paper and spells.

Unfortunately, there was no progress, neither in Vanishing Cabinet nor in the first Hogsmeade weekend. He knew at heart who Aunt Bellatrix was, the most loyal servant of the Dark Lord and the most qualified Death Eater. It was possible that she could contain the savage beast in her heart when faced with a bunch of defenseless Hogwarts students, but what about Potter?

Draco's hand began to tremble. As a fanatic follower, Bellatrix regarded Potter the most unforgivable person in the world, who once defeated her beloved lord and deprived him of his body. If she spotted Potter, she apparently would throw him a dozen Crucios. Well, maybe not, after all the Dark Lord repeatedly claimed that Potter was his own whose life must be concluded by he himself. Bella might not kill Potter, but how about his two inseparable companions? She would not hesitate to generously cast two Killing Curses while laughing out loud. Draco felt his fingertips turning cold, an ineffable dread chilling him to the marrow of his bones. As if being crushed by great stones, he was unable to breathe.

Ingredients analysis of Elixir to Induce Euphoria. He tried to concentrate on his paper and quickly listed the ingredients on the parchment, illustrating how they could induce a state of euphoria, although he himself had not felt even happy since long.

Persuading them out of going to Hogsmeade? As if they would believe him. They might even think he was up to something and would prevent him more zealously. Knocking them out? Impossible. Potter was now securely guarded, and you could not do anything to him without alarming Dumbledore. Nevertheless, if he went to Hogsmeade, whatever happened there would render him most suspicious, especially when his father was jailed in Azakaban. Any excuse could lead him to not being able to return to Hogwarts, and at that time not only him but also the whole family were at the disposal of the Dark Lord's wrath.

Draco put down his quill and turned to the thick reference book, fingers gliding over series of botanic names, looking for the ingrediants that needed to be commented.

Even if he went there, what could he do? Aunt Bella would not become harmless because of him, nor could he help them in a palpable manner. Once the secret in his heart was sensed, even only a little, it would merely draw danger to her and to himself. This was the resolve he made one year ago when he admitted defeat.

Draco's fingers paused on the page. He had been in this dilemma for nearly ten days. So fatigued he was by the huge pressure, anxiety and agony that his eyes began to blur. He looked hard to comprehend the small and crowded letters, trying to converting them to his paper.

Someone snatched the book away from him.

"Draco you need to take a rest. It seems as though you will faint in no time." Blaise peered at him worriedly, "You look pale as a ghost. The paper is not due and you can save it until later. Why not take a nap?"

"Why are you here in a library?" He replied impatiently, rubbing his eyebrows and controlling his ill temper.

"Perhaps you failed to notice that you missed lunch again!" The boy also cried out of patience and won a stern glaire from Ms. Pince. He then lowered his voice and said: "You look bad lately. What's wrong?"

Draco turned his eyes away. "I'm fine," came the curt answer.

"You have nothing to do with fine by all definition!" Blaise was not sacred by his restrained anger, "You don't even permit Crabbe and Goyle to keep you company, not to mention you have become incredibly diligent. They told me yesterday that you might want to finish with them due to what happened at the end of last semester. Okay, these are immaterial, but look at you: you've got dark circles around the eyes! I really cannot believe that you should allow this sort of things on your face."

Amazed at the rare harangue, Draco did not know whether he should be moved or annoyed. Slytherins were accustomed to relationships in a certain distance. Even a friend would not meddle in others' private affairs, for the one being cared for usually did not appreciate this help. Feeling the suppressed emotions turning explosive, Draco thought maybe a good quarrel was a good idea.

Imperious mask on face, Draco approached Blaise, ready to requite the unwanted care when a girl clutching an armful of books appeared from behind the bookshelves.

Seeing two Slytherins confronting each other, Hermione paused in embarrassment.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Draco growled. He then turned and fixed on Blaise instead, whose tall body amazingly shrunk under his glare.

"I am looking for a book and this is not your family library, Malfoy, if you fail to realize." She retorted quickly. When she saw the book One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi on his desk, she pursed her lips in frustration. "All right, now that you found it first..." She glowered at Draco, deciding to stay away from him, but was nearly knocked down by something thrown in her face.

"Take that silly book and get lost. Don't you dare to infect us with your foul odor." Seeing the boy who had hit her with One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi squinting at her coldly, Hermione's hair grew more fluffy in indignation. She held tight her books, rushed head high into another row of bookshelves with and disappeared.

Draco's fists loosened. He stood there emotionlessly, his head hung down. The violent emotion that was to explode just now dissolved the instant he saw her, only a sense of helpless remaining and flowing all over him.

"Draco..."

"...Do I really have dark circles?"

"Seriously dark circles indeed!" Seeing Draco not so angry anymore, Blaise stressed. He took out a silver lunch box from his bag and handed it over. "I have brought you something to eat. Take it and return to the dorm right now-I'll take your bag."

"Thanks." Draco stood up, feeling dizzy due to hunger and tiredness.

"Tomorrow is the first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. You should go with me for a change. You really pushed yourself too hard recently."

Draco's hand stopped on the doorknob of the library door, a wry smile settling on his face. "You are too nosy today, so I am not prepared to see you tomorrow." He replied drily.

 _Tomorrow...How I wish tomorrow would never come..._

At this thought Draco climbed onto his bed and was unconscious instantly. Several seconds ticking by, he was awoken by blinding sunshine and annoying clamor.

"Draco, we are heading for Hogsmeade. Get up now." Blaise said cautiously.

Oh no... He rolled over and then sat up, his body warmed up in a deep sleep stiffening at once. He sat still for a few minutes, until he was pressed by Blaise to get dressed. Later dragging his feet he followed the crowds out of Slytherin Common Room.

"I think I had better not go. I need more sleep." He was not going to face the difficult choice.

"You slept from three o'clock yesterday afternoon to this morning, is that not enough?"

"I still feel too tired, and I have some books to read..."

"That only makes you feel worse, Draco. Let's take a break in Hogsmeade and go grab something." Determined to separate him from any book for a while, Blaise dragged him to the oak front doors in spite of his dangerous look.

Students clustered in a long queue; McGonagal was checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade; Filch was triple-checking everybody with his weird Secrecy Sensor. Hogwarts was guarded more securely than ever and all the secret passages (at least those he knew) to Hogsmeade were blocked. It was impossible for him to sneak out of school.

Seeing there were only about ten students standing before him, Draco suddenly shook off Blaise's grasp and quitted the queue. He could not go. He could not risk the whole family for his ridiculous feelings. He could not upset his mother. He could not...

Draco watched an irritated Blaise being pushed out the of the school gate by the crowds, stamping and pointing at him angrily. He retreated to the door of the castle, and then saw the trio run out of it and crowd in the queue while arguing over something.

The weather was terrible with bitter wind and swirling sleet. He stood in the shadow of the magnificent door, watching Hermione's cheek glowing against snow, her lips and nose red with cold, snow flake falling on her wavy hair forming a shimmering diamond hairnet. The Gryffindor trio quickly passed the check. Weasley was rubbing his ribs where Filch jabbed him. Hermione held the two boys' arms and disappeared into the white snow.

Then there was only white snow in Draco's world. He leaned against the chilling stone wall, his expression misted in a white puff. He tried to empty his mind, yet an idea was growing and spreading ferociously: What if an intimidating Dark Mark rose above Hogsmeade soon afterwards? What if Potter sent back two dead bodies weeping and wailing? What if it was the last time he saw her?...

A whimper escaped his throat. The boy hit the wall with his fist. _Please, please don't make me..._ He looked up and saw McGonagal rolling the list ready to leave and Filch preparing the chains to close the front doors. All the sanity he managed to maintain in the past ten days collapsed at her receding figure.

Draco jumped out of the shadow and ran to the front doors with snow covering all over him. _As long as you are alive, I am ready for hell._

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

 **Reviews are welcomed. Even though this is a translation and the original Chinese version is already completed, I am still not sure about some exact choice of words or some small details that I'd like to modify. Therefore, I am very happy to discuss these details with you.**


	5. Chapter 5 UNCROSSABLE DISTANCE (1)

Chapter 5 UNCROSSABLE DISTANCE (1)

In the shadow of Voldemort's return, Hogsmeade was no longer the pleasant place it used to be: many stores closed up, the doors and windows were sealed by sticks, and notices posted everywhere made the students even moodier, not to mention the bitter wind mingled with snow and ice. It was really not a good day for hanging out. Further, to the Slytherin who disguised himself with Disillusionment Charm and who was tailing furtively the wandering Gryffindor trio, this was without doubt the worst weekend he had ever had over the past sixteen years.

Disillusionment Charm could not make one invisible, and it only allowed you to merge unobtrusively into the background like a chameleon, so you risked the chance of being exposed if you moved fast. Draco stood beside a small wrecked cottage, wrapping his scarf and cloak tightly, but he was still numb in cold. The three of them had stayed in Honeydukes for about half an hour, and peering through the window Draco saw Potter conversing with Slughorn for at least twenty minutes. The bald elder Professor seemed to be trying to talk Potter into buying a box of Cockroach Clusters and Potter made it to a refusal after a long struggle. After the Professor left Honeydukes, they seemed quite relieved and headed for the Three Broomsticks.

Draco was again trailing them in a distance. After he found a sheltered corner opposite to the pub to hide, his mind began to wander. He truly could not believe he was reduced to a watchdog of the Gryffindors! He ran his fingers in his messy hair and shivered. The bitter wind was like knives on his face. The weather was getting worse and snow was heavier. His cloak was damp and freezing as if he was tucked in ice.

"Awful weather." Draco swore and took out his wand to dry his robe. At the ringing bell from the opposite street, he turned and saw the three Gryffindor walk out the Three Broomsticks. Not far ahead of them was another two Gryffindor girls, among whom one was the Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell and the other might be her friend, and they were arguing over something vehemently.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Bell exclaimed hysterically and gave the other girl a heavy thrust. She was holding a package wrapped up in royal blue velvet. Draco prayed that Potter would not pry, because his disguise would be easily blown up when running. Unfortunately, seeing the two girl's condition, Potter immediately ran up for them, as if there was a Golden Snitch for him to catch.

Annoyed Draco grabbed his wand and decided to follow them when the air before him suddenly twisted and in a small Beep Bellatrix Lestrange apparated in front of him, bending her face close to his.

"Haha, look what I've got here! Dear Draco, why don't you follow what your mother has said and stay in your warm bed?" Bellatrix bared her teeth and pointed at Draco's chin with her wand, crazy glint in her eyes, "or you are up to something forbidden, like betraying the Dark Lord?"

Staring into her dark eyes, Draco found without pretense he was trembling in fear and fury. "Mind your words, aunt Bella. A Malfoy betraying the Dark Lord? All the world knows where we stand!"

"Is that so? Then why are you so anxious and afraid-you haven't answer to my question why you don't listen to your mother's words, my dear?"

"Mother was meddlesome when she entrusted you! It was me that the Dark Lord assigned the task to and I will accomplish it myself!"

Bellatrix giggled madly, hoarse laughter mingling with the sound of wind blowing through the street, like the growl of some beast. "You are afraid that I will steal your credit? Haha, naïve. However, I appreciate your resolve to serve the Dark Lord. Don't follow your cowardly father." She repressed Draco's defiance, "to be honest, your mother's idea can't be worse, yet I cannot refusal the request of a heartrending and blind mother, can I?

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that-"

"Well, well, nephew. I bet her trick won't work, so there's no need to worry about your credit. Just a little chaos, a death or two-some compensation for my trip." Bellatrix released him, stepped back, and grinned triumphantly. "I've added something to your mother's, so everything will be more-", she mouthed a 'bang', "-fantastic." At this, she disapparated.

Draco turned, and forgetting the Disillusionment Charm ran along the way where the Gryffindors had disappeared. The five pairs of footprints were half covered by snow and half disrupted by others', and shortly found himself in an isolated street. There was no one around, ahead was frozen ground and the footprints vanished. Scanning around anxiously, he prayed that what was fantastic told by Bellatrix had not occurred when he heard a piercing shriek of pain-a girl's voice. Draco's heart stopped a beat.

Knees weak, he stumbled forward following the continuing scream, and then turned to see Katie Bell floating above the ground, arms outstretched, face twisting in anguish and fear, and her black hair whipped around her like seaweed, as if she was under the torture of one hundred Crucios. The trio and Bell's friend were trying to tug her back to the ground.

That shriek was not Hermione's. She's felt a little relieved, but then he got a glimpse of an ornate opal necklace with an eerie green glint in the snow.

"Run!"

Draco yelled and pulled out his wand, yet it was too late. The time his voice was let out, the opal necklace suddenly jumped up in the air, belching black smoke which blanketed the five people.

"Malum Dispello!" Anxious and afraid, he waved his wand and a golden bolt of light shot from his wand. However, in the hurry the spell was too weak to take effect and the dark cloud only writhed. Gritting his teeth, Draco dash into the smoke where Hermione was standing. In the darkness he reached a hand, cold, soft and slightly trembling, which he recognized in no time. Clutching her hand, he tugged her behind him and at the same time casted two Protegos to shield various dark curses spilling out from the opal necklace.

"What happened?" Leaning against him, her sweating hand gripping his, Hermione cried, "Harry? Ron?"

Draco bit his lips. He was not letting she know he was neither of her friends at the moment. He did not know what Bellatirx had done to that necklace, or whether it was immanently a powerful dark magical artifact. Red light flashed in the dark smoke. All of a sudden, he thought of the bang she mouthed before her leave and exclaimed, "Run! It's exploding!"

As if confirming him, the thick black smoke turned red hot in the next second. Draco grabbed her hand and rushed out only about five or six meters before the scorching heat hit him.

"BANG!" Violent explosion generated a fire two stories high. Out of instinct Draco held her tightly in his arms in protection, feeling him hurled forwards by the blast of the explosion. Then he hit hard against a stone wall. At a crack from his left arm, a sharp pain overwhelmed him. Fantastic indeed. Hissing slightly in pain, tears nearly running down, Draco leaned against the stone wall stiffly, not daring to move. Bellatrix's madness did not fail him. Were the necklace thrown into the crowds, much more than a death or two would have been caused.

The whole Hogsmeade was startled by the loud explosion and people quickly headed for the spot. Through the smoke Draco saw Potter and Weasley struggled to rise, each dragging an unconscious girl. They all seemed well despite some burns. It was a pity that his own left arm was broken. He could not truly believe there would be a day when he risked his life to save a batch of Gryffindors.

The girl in his arms was still in shock. Draco could even hear Hermione's heartbeats despite the heavy clothes, as if they were tapping on his ribs. She pressed her face against his chest and her hands were clutching his robe. They stayed so close that he could smell her light perfume of green grass and books, and sense her hair touching lightly his chin. It was with all his will that he refrained himself from hugging the girl. He held his breath, trying as possible to preserve the transient warmness. He really was incorrigible.

When Hermione raise her head from the cold and elegant aroma-filled embrace, what she saw was the pale and delicate face of Draco Malfoy, who was gazing steadily at her with a pair of ice grey eyes as clear as gemstones. With astonishment she thrusted at the chest before her and jumped away. Draco suppressed a cry and and held his left arm. If it were not for the fact that he could not speak at the moment, he would undoubtedly give the ungrateful woman a lesson.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Having checked Katie Bell and her friend, the two boys hurried towards their own friend. Just as they were relieved to see Hermione standing there safe and untouched, they spotted the unwanted man by the wall.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"It seems that someone can't resist the urge to make a hit even for one second. Only one hour in Hogsmeade, and you have already put on such a show, and I'm merely the ignorant passerby affected by your deed."

Potter's initial hesitant expression turned annoyed. "We were attacked by dark magic! It must have been because of your Death Eater fellow-or maybe just you!"

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

 **Malum Dispello is a spell I believe invented by the original fiction author. In the original text it is a phrase meaning dispersing evil with light, and I am not sure how to translate it properly. I have used google translation and decided on Malum Impetro in Latin, meaning dispelling evil. If you have any good idea about it, please inform me.**


	6. Chapter 6 UNCROSSABLE DISTANCE (2)

**Chapter 6 UNCROSSABLE DISTANCE (2)**

Draco looked coldly at the vigorous Boy Who Lived, all the cold and anxiety he had suffered all day turning to rage, and he began to spew out venom. "Attacked by dark magic? You seem animated than ever, yet it was the two girls who were injured. Hiding behind women in danger, aren't you?"

Potter and Weasley scowled at him, obviously wishing to beat him instantly. Hermione hastily held her friends back, and said in a tone even she herself felt uncanny, "Malfoy saved me..."

The two boys' eyes widened.

Hermione glanced at Draco, added hesitantly, "and the two warnings, they sounded like Malfoy's voice..."

With three pair of perplexed eyes looking in his direction, Draco raised his chin, adopting his most callous and arrogant manner, and drawled, "Had I seen clear it was you who were there, I wouldn't have taken the trouble. I only spotted a flash of green light, and thought you were Slytherins." He sneered, "It's hard to express how regretful I am now. I could have been left alone without you three filthy idiots."

"You...!"

"And you, Granger. I don't even realize that you itch so desperately-"he patted slightly on his robes where she had grasped, as if it was tainted with something disgusting, "-to throw yourself to my arms? I'm very sorry. Although I'm always generous with ladies, but a beaver is far beyond my forbearance. As I've said many times, don't infect me with your foul odor!"

Hermione flushed hotly in embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears. Potter and Weasley were to explode with fury and two wands nearly stabbed him on the chest.

"What? Are you attacking me, after I have just saved you?" Draco scoffed.

The wands froze. Draco stood up slowly, suppressing the sharp pain in his left arm, and under the killing glare of the trio stalked off against the coming crowds.

 _Well done._ Draco congratulated himself. He did not give away his intention to them, but he had put himself to the limit. He was afraid that if he stayed any longer, the thirst and sorrow in his heart might tear his shell of pride and present his bloody and scarred self to her.

His wounded arm could not be treated in the infirmary, unless he was to freak out the only Healer in school with the Dark Mark. It was not the time to return to school, so the way to Hogwarts was empty. Draco stumbled against the bitter wind, soaked to the skin by sleet and snow. The cold numbed not only his wounded arm, but his mind and soul.

What had brought him to this state? He climbed up a gentle hill and walked through the large front doors. The expense of snow on the ground was half frozen and dim grey, reaching as far as the edge of the Forbidden Forest where it met the cloudy and dim grey sky. Draco walked in the half-opened door of the castle, evading the hallways where most students usually passed by, not wanting his miserable image to be seen.

His long insistency of pedigree was already a joke, and he was no longer in any position to advocate the supremacy of pure blood. Accordingly, the pride drilled into him since his birth was in jeopardy as well. He stood alone in the dormitory. The ornate mirror hanging from the wardrobe reflected a drenched, dirty and dreadfully pale boy. Carefully Draco undressed and bared his left arm. It was badly swollen. On the forearm was a black skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, as if reminding him of the dignity wrecked by terror and power. A wry smile settled on the boy in the mirror. Perhaps the dignity of pure-bloods was only taken seriously by none but the pure-bloods themselves.

Draco single-handedly changed into his dressing-gown. Sitting on his bed, he tried to cure his wounds. After a series of Reparos the fractures and dislocation seemed to be healed, but the swelling did not subside. Draco pouted in frustration, his obstinacy conceding to grievance-when had he suffered like this for something thankless and got to hide and heal himself after being injured? Struggling to pacify his sour feelings and tremendous pressure on his chest, Draco furrowed his brow, and start to recall which spell reduced swelling when the dormitory door was pushed open.

He gave a start, immediately covered his left arm with sleeves, and then turned to find it was Snape who was standing at the door rather than Blaise. The Slytherin Head came in threateningly, held him by the left wrist, and rolled up the sleeves.

"I've told you to be cautious. Were you expelled-"

"It's not me."

"I hope you are telling the truth, for it was stupid and clumsy and you've been suspected- "

"Who would suspect me?" Draco interrupted, his mood worse and tone harsh,"It was I who saved Potter! If not so, how do you think my arm was injured, assailed by a troll?"

Squinting his eyes, Snape replied in a tone as if he suspected that Draco was a member of the Phoenix Order under Polyjuice Potion. "You saved Potter? From the explosion a moment ago?"

"Despised as I am of that so-called savior, and wishing he would die the next second, I remember that the Lord claimed that the boy was his and no one should touch him."

Having fixed his eyes on Draco for a few seconds, Snape produced a bottle of potion and put it on the bedside table. "Drink half of it and dab the remains on your wound, and your arm will heal up tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Next time you are doing something, discuss it with me first-"

"Why will I discuss with you?" Draco said adamantly and faced Snape's scathing glare without flinching, "This is my task after all. I don't need anyone's intervention!"

Snape's brow wrinkled like he was looking at an imbecile in Potions class. "I have to help you. I agreed to your father and promised to your mother. I even made an unbreakable Vow with your mother."

"I really appreciate your care and concern, Professor, but it's not necessary." Draco tilted his head and flashed his usual fake smile, not bothering to conceal the impatience in his tone. "Just wait and see how I send the old fool to the tomb."

Snape's eyes glittered and after a while he curled up his lips. "You were frightened to death when you accepted the task, but now sees your courage has increased dramatically. What changed you, Draco?"

Draco's smiled died. Feeling insulted, he glowered at Snape. "Are you insinuating that I was a coward?"

"Of course not, I am praising you for your growth... Now you need more rest. We will talk about it later."

Black robes swinging, Snape left in the same threatening matter as he came. Draco sat back on his bed for some time, and saw Blaise pop his head in at the door piteously.

"May I come in now? I'm freezing. Oh Draco, it's wise of you not to go to Hogsmeade..."

"Wise indeed, so I'm going to sleep now. Be quiet, Blaise."

 _It was really impetuous wisdom and stupid courage. I just allowed myself to choose a more bearable result-if I went there, I might reproach myself all my life; if I did not go, I must have kill myself in regret._

Settling himself in the soft bed, he was fast asleep.


	7. Chapter 7 CRUSH OF SIXTEEN (1)

**Chapter 7 CRUSH OF SIXTEEN (1)**

The accident in Hogsmeade did not cause a turmoil in school, perhaps because the actual people involved refused to talk about it spontaneously. Even the most inquisitive person could not dig more out of it and the incident ended in Katie Bell being admitted in infirmary and Gryffindor Quidditch team having to substitute one of its Chaser.

The only difference noteworthy was that the Gryffindor trio were always trying to avoid him after that. However, it was not an easy task for Hermione Granger, as Draco spent more and more time in the library while she had to sit as far away from him as possible. Annoyed and amused, he watched her looking for a vacant seat everywhere with an armful of books. Finally, as he despised himself, he appropriated the seat in the most inner corner of the library for his exclusive use. When he arrogantly announced that nobody should approach his private seat, Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

The weather in November turned fine and clear. Though it was still freezing cold, at least it did not wind and snow endlessly.

Draco swallowed down the last bit of his breakfast. Having checked his schedule and made sure he only had Astronomy in the evening, he grabbed his bag and rose from the Slytherin table.

Glancing at Draco's plate, Blaise was astounded. "Library again, Draco? Since when have you become a Ravenclaw?"

"I'm not like you, who always leave the papers down to wire."

"But I remember you finished all this week's assignments yesterday -by the way they are a big help." Blaise stabbed at his pudding with a fork. "Look at the sunshine. The prince of Slytherin shouldn't lock himself in the dusty library in such a fine weather and girls will be pleased to see you by the lake-"

"Then you shall patrol the territory for me. I wish you could get your fourth girlfriend of this month."

"Come on, Draco. Even Crabbe and Goyle are in love, so don't waste the sweet youth of sixteen－"

"Crabbe and Goyle are in love?" Draco frozen and turned his head in horror. "How can they love anything other than food?"

"Haven't you noticed that they do not follow you around recently?"

"That's because the library is like an inferno to them, with unedible tombstones everywhere."

Blaise was choked with the pudding, and broke into a paroxysm of coughing while rubbing his chest.

"Don't be so mean! Well, yes, it is the fact."

"I can't be idling away my time like you are." Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle with a gratified smile, "Keep enjoying your youth of sixteen."

"But what's to become of pour Pansy? And there's a-"Blaise swallowed up the latter part of his sentence in Draco's warning glare. He shuddered and sprang to his feet.

"Please go on and have a good time in the library!" He bowed respectfully.

Draco stalked away, not aware of the lingering gaze of admiring onlookers.

"If I told him girls had most crush on him and Potter, what do you think his reaction would be?" Blaise elbowed Goyle and stroked his chin reflectively.

"what' er you sayin'?" Goyle raise his head, his mouth staffed with cake.

"Nothing, mate. What about another piece of black forest? Your youth was already stuffed to death anyway."

Keeping a haughty smile Draco entered the library. Then the corners of his mouth turning straight, he stood in a hidden corner sheltered by two bookshelves, pulled out his wand and rapped himself on the top of the head. He shuddered at the cold trickles seeming to be running down his body. Draco looked down at his body and then sneaked quickly into the Restricted Section of the library.

He had searched countless books in the Restricted Section over the month, yet he still could not gather enough useful information. With his wand he lifted Dark Magical Artifacts of the Twentieth Century off from the bookshelves rising right up to the ceiling. Rubbing his forehead, Draco hid in the shadow and opened it slowly.

 _Vanishing Cabinets were highly popular during the First Wizarding War; in the event of a Death Eater attack, one could simply disappear to the other cabinet until the danger had passed. Difficult to control as they were, and might have people transferred to the other side of Europe, yet during the dark age life was the first priority._

This was all Draco knew about Vanishing Cabinets. Though he had acquired some other Vanishing Cabinets from the wizarding family who had used them, they were all different from the one in Borgin and Burkes, merely like simplified replications. They could only transfer humans or objects randomly, and there were also no abstruse Runes on them.

Stop turning the pages, he reached into his pocket and took out a piece of parchment. Spreading it on his knees, he tried again to discern the twisted letters and once again regretted that he had not worked hard in the past five years-had he learned Runes, he would not merely see those letters as dancing spiders under Tarantellegra, and at least he would know which reference book to turn to to cipher them-He already compared them with all the Rune dictionaries he could lay his hands on, and only a third of them would match while their meaning was still erratic and illogical.

Having skimmed through the thick Dark Magical Artifacts of the Twentieth Century fruitlessly, Draco waved his wand and put it back in place. He ruffled his hair irritably-he had had enough of the haphazard search, but he simply could not think of any other way to analyze the spells on the broken Vanishing Cabinet, let alone mend it.

"You can ask Dumbledore for help." A small voice in his mind suggested. "You can turn to the Phoenix Order now, and he is sure to help you. Maybe it's only a matter of waving his wand to him."

Draco shook his head. He should not indulge himself in naïve disillusions. The reality was always cruel. After his father's arrest, Draco spent a whole summer holiday to finally face up to the reality. Since he could not follow the Dark Lord's commands to torture and kill people, he could not protect his family as a proper Death Eater. As for the Phoenix Order, he was merely a sixteen-year-old boy to them, average grades and not prominent enough among Death Eaters to get access to worthwhile news. Now he only had the Malfoy the surname-and the surname was tottering-what value did he own to Dumbledore? If he could not mend the Vanishing Cabinet, what terms could he offer to convince the Phoenix Order to watch out for his family? If he did not strengthen himself quickly enough, the Phoenix Order needed not to do anything. They might just stand there effortlessly and watch him struggle like a clown not even being able to touch a single hair of Dumbledore's beard and wiped way by the Dark Lord.

Draco hid his face in the arms, his trembling shoulders giving away his uneasiness and vulnerability. _I need to stand firm, even though I am fighting alone._ Draco thought in despair. He was already forced out of the shelter of the Dark, so he needed at least to find a standing point in the Light, otherwise what protection could he get?

A burst of joyful laughter rang outside, and before Ms. Pinch's shouted angrily, Draco was sure he heard some words like Quidditch and Weasley. Ah yes, today was the first Quidditch match of the season, Slytherin against Gryffindor. He vaguely remembered that he had asked for leave, but he did not anticipate he would totally forget about it. What Blaise wanted to inform him but was interrupted this morning must have been about this. It was a pity that even if he had heard it out, he would not have enough time to watch the match. Like the reckless and carefree life, Quidditch was already a distant memory to him. He looked up at the setting sun, stood up, and walked silently out of the library.


	8. Chapter 8 CRUSH OF SIXTEEN (2)

**Chapter 8 CRUSH OF SIXTEEN (2)**

Draco did not lift the Disillusion Charm. The corridor flush with excited Griffindor students implied who the winner was. A group of sixth year students was walking ahead of him, talking ardently about the match.

"Oh...Harry is so great. Did you see his last catch of the Snitch? He is no less than any professional – he will be the Krum of Hogwarts!"

"Krum is only well-developed in body, while Harry is clever and brave – he is the boy who lived after all!"

"Says who liked Krum so much and nearly transferred school. And last year you said you wanted to date Malfoy and Harry was merely a deluded show-off –"

At this Draco was startled, and also felt a little pleased. The two girls continued to argue vehemently and then a dark-haired girl between them intervened.

"Well," The girl had criticized Krum added, "Draco is really handsome, isn't he? Whoever of you haven't dreamed of him? Besides, he's not so harsh and bullying now-"

"But he has also become cold and aloof. I dare to say no one has expressed her feelings to him."

"Yeah...Think about it. The handsome, quiet, yet indifferent prince, his dexterous fingers closing the book and flashing a smile exclusive to you...Do you think Fred and George's love potions will work?"

Longing expression settled on the girls simultaneously and the pleasure in Draco's heart faded. He felt a chill creep over him and wished the corridor was shorter. Since when had he established such an absurd image? He must be careful with whatever food offered by others from now on!

"Forget it, the two of them are too difficult and competitors are too many. Weasley is not bad too."

"Are you to compete with Lavender? She nearly fainted in excitement in the stands!"

Finally spotting a corner, Draco hastily turned into another corridor. There were more students there, the scattering silver and green were extraordinarily conspicuous in the sea of gold and scarlet. Lonely Slytherin individuals together formed the lonely Slytherin House. A Slytherin student would not spill out all his secrets to others, not even to the dearest friend, and at the exact moment Draco felt somewhat jealous of the heartily laughing Gryffindors-at least they had no scruples about cursing the damned Runes to harass their friends.

Hearing the discussions about the match, Draco's lips curled in a sneer. It seemed Weasley had put on a show today. Was it because of the lack of his cheers and applause? Weasley's Cleansweep Seven could virtually make it into museums, thought Draco maliciously. Perhaps an ancient broom produced decades ago could fly a distinct curve from those produced today that the Slytherin Chasers could not predict his direction?

Ancient...distinct...direction?

Draco could scarcely breathe. Ancient Runes! Directions! He could not believe why he had not thought of that. Modern Runes are far different from the ancient Runes. No wonder he could not translate those Runes using a modern dictionary. He rubbed his forehead with delight and remorse-had he paid attention to classes-why on earth hadn't he thought of ancient Runes earlier?

Finally seeing some light shed on his conundrum, Draco quickened his pace happily. Tomorrow would be weekend, and he was going to spend the next two days on ancient Runes. Now maybe he should go and enjoy the luxury of a free meal and then have a good sleep. As he was imagining the food, he turned the corner and saw two people wrap so closely around each other that it was hard to tell whose hands were whose. Alarmed by the indecent posture, Draco backed several steps reflexively before he remembered he was under Disillusion Charm. He sidestepped the glued lovers, trying to identify them by the color of their hair.

"Weasley...and Lavender Brown?" He murmured hesitantly.

As if sensing something, his heart leapt. Draco looked around carefully, and then through the crack of the door of an unlocked classroom he caught a glimpse of a piece of gray robes.

Hermione Granger was looking at the two people from behind the door.

All the blood in his body throbbed at his heart. Draco walked forward and halted five steps from the door. He was peering at her face through the crack and she was peering at the kissing Weasley. The scene was so hilarious that Draco nearly burst into laughter.

He watched moisture accumulate in her brown eyes and tears dripping down her cheek, every drop drumming on his nerves like heavy stones. She bit her lips tightly to smother her sobs while Draco clenched his fist to refrain himself from punching the red-haired arsehole. He knew if he really did it, the Gryffindor witch would only point her wand at him furiously.

The long, hot kiss-or nibble-ended. Brown stood up and pulled Weasley by the hand. She giggled, and hopped away like an antelope, forcing Weasley to bounce up and down with her. Seeing the two bouncing, gold and scarlet Puffskeins disappear, Hermione stepped back and sat on the teacher's desk, beginning to sob.

How sweet the youth of sixteen was... Draco closed his eyes, unable to see her sadness and his wretchedness.

The day was closing in and the torches in the corridor lit up automatically. It was time for dinner and the corridor was bustling, yet the intermittent whimper from the small crack kept creeping into his ears and grabbed him like Siren's song. He froze there, unable to move. He stood next to the door, just two steps from her, looking at her, gray eyes filled with sadness and tenderness.

 _All right, I'm here with you, no matter who you love. You are not alone and I will always be there for you._ He thought despairingly. The brightest witch of her age in Hogwarts fell in love with her idiot friend. Wasn't it ridiculous? But who was he to laugh at her? He let the prince of Slytherin fall for the Mudblood in Gryffindor and let a natural Death Eater fall for a natural Oder member, so it was what he deserved-he deserved to forever stand in the shadow looking at her helplessly.

Gradually the crying ceased. The witch inside rose to her feet wiping the tears away. Draco squatted down slowly, took out a handkerchief from his inside pocket, and folded it carefully. After a pause he waved his wand and the color of the embroidered border changed from silver and green to gold and scarlet. He placed it at the door, and then turned and left quickly.

He felt what he need now was no longer the dinner. He should return to the Room of Requirement, practice some more spells and bury the prince's crush with numerous Runes.


	9. Chapter 9 INTERROGATION (1)

**Chapter 9 INTERROGATION (1)**

After the incident in Hogsmeade, Narcissa Malfoy was emotionally fragile. Draco sighed at her scrawl, folded the letter, and took out a wooden box from his wardrobe. In the delicately-carved box were all the letters she had written to him in this semester. Christmas had not come yet, but the box was nearly full.

Father was still in Azkaban. Narcissa begged all the people she could turn to and spent a fortune on it, achieving nothing but moving Lucius into a neater cell. Draco knew the fury of the Dark Lord had not faded, and he still wanted to see them suffer. Whether his father would be released or not depended totally on his performance-he needed to let the Dark Lord notice that he was a powerful and promising follower, clever enough, yet sometimes ignorant of his purpose, and above all absolutely loyal to him.

Several months ago, he would never have expected himself to do something so humiliating and dangerous. It was until his father was sent to jail that it dawned on him that no one would shelter him anymore. He had to face the most fearful dark warlock and the most ferocious monarchy in the world. He should not be subjected to luck and ease, and he must spare no effort to practice-practice spells to strengthen himself, practice Occlumency to guard his secrets, and practice to behave like a perfect slave so that the suspicion on him would be less. What the Dark Lord did not understand was that a Malfoy would not be a slave perpetually. The boy squinted his eyes, his flawless smile concealing the coldness beyond his age. He adjusted his dark green tie in front of the mirror and walked out of the dormitory.

He had arrived early. There were only a bunch of scattered yawning students in the hall. Hermione was sitting alone at the Gryffindor table with a piece of toast in her mouth and Potter and Weasley were nowhere to be seen. Draco sat down at the Slytherin table, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Peering over the top edge of his glass he studied her. She was thinner and low-spirited. She kept leafing through the thick book on her knees while having breakfast, a typical good student excruciated by heavy study.

XXX

Hermione Granger had been having a rough time recently. She and Ron Weasley were in the longest cold war ever, one always buried in books and the other kissing Lavender Brown deliberately all day. Maybe only Draco Malfoy knew how many times she had hidden in a corner crying, her tears saturating the handkerchief, and he felt as if his heart was soaked in tears, heavy, sad and sour, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Ron came in with Lavender hand in hand, laughing. At the sight of Hermione their expression stiffed, and then Ron hummed. Hermione turned away, avoiding looking at him. It's obvious that a rare crack had emerged in the Gryffindor trio. The other day in the Transfiguration class Ron mocked her overtly, doing an accurate impression of her jumping up and down at teacher's questions. She raced out the classroom on the verge of tears and their relationship could not be worse. Yet Draco knew even though that jerk Weasley made her cry, he was still one of the most important ones in her heart.

The fifth time Lavender burst into laughter, Hermione sprang to her feet, dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and tidy away her books, preparing to leave. Just at that time, Ginny Weasley came in the hall with Dean Thomas. She frowned at Lavender's laughter, tossed back her red hair and said purposely to Dean, "Won-Won is so lovely. Maybe you should learn from him, dear."

With a vacant look Dean nodded. Ron pulled himself away from Lavender's face and raised his head, looking awkwardly at Ginny.

"I'm grateful your kissing skills are not as bad as his," leaning against Dean, touching his hair, Ginny said with affection, "Poor Lavender, if my brother bites her face off, my family will have to compensate her."

The students around could not withhold their laughter. Ron flushed and tried to retort, but he seemed unable to find the right words to talk back. At last he pulled Lavender and disappeared together from the hall where the students' laughter only got louder.

Ginny shrugged and moved down the table to sat with Hermione. She patted on her shoulder, and said smugly, "I bet they have to suffer from hunger this morning, since they haven't had time to eat anything."

Hermione managed a smile and stabbed the omelette with her fork. Ginny looked at her and sighed, not knowing how to comfort her. She tried to transfer the topic. "Er, where did you buy your handkerchief? It's nice."

It was only a casual comment, yet she immediately found her complication not enough-The handkerchief was extremely beautiful. The pure white, thick fabric looked soft, blended with fine gold thread, shimmering in the sunlight. When she looked closer, she realized the gold thread was not simply woven into the fabric, but was designed in intricate and magnificent patterns with exquisite techniques. Golden red embroidery bordered the handkerchief, and the four corners were decorated respectively with a tiny crystal, each of them being pure, pellucid, and light gray.

"How beautiful!" Ginny exclaimed, and could not help touching it, which felt like silky skin, simply too fine and smooth. "This handkerchief can't be something cheap, and even one of those crystals may not be bought with dozens of Gallons. They look like magical crystals. Where did you get it, Hermione?"

"Uh...I just picked it up."

"Pick it up?"

"…or rather it's a gift..."

"Which way was it?" Ginny was confused. She felt the handkerchief again with an admiring expression.

Hermione pulled her hair, trying to organize her thoughts and explanations. She put the handkerchief back to her bag, looked around-Draco looked away quickly and sliced his bacon lazily-and lowered her voice, "Do you remember that day, the day when we beat Slytherin in Quidditch, you know, Ron..."

"Yeah, I understand. My brother is the biggest idiot over the world!"

Hermione looked away, not willing to talk about him, and she continued. "I happened to meet...them at the end of the corridor on the third floor, so...I hid in an unoccupied classroom. When I came out, it was placed at the door."

"Placed there, not dropped there?"

"yes, it was folded neatly into a pentagon, so it's unlikely that it was dropped out from a pocket."

"So you picked it up," Ginny sighed, her expression turning serious, "Have you checked it? Maybe it's-"

"No, there's no such magical hint on it, unlike..." she shook her head, "the diary."

Hearing their worries, Draco was not sure whether he should be annoyed or amused.

Apparently Ginny was convinced by Hermione's judgement and rested assured. She winked at Hermione. "Then it must be a gift from a kind-hearted gentleman. Using so expensive a handkerchief, he might come from a very wealthy family."

"I don't know. Judging by the color, it should be from a Gryffindor. Do we have many such students in our House?"

"Most of the wealthiest student are in Slytherin." Ginny waved her hand, dismissing it as unimportant. "I should have known, being excellent and pretty, you must have many secret admirers, and one of them quietly left a handkerchief for you. Those dunderheads wouldn't have such romance." She looked reprovingly at Dean, who was smiling sheepishly at her.

"Cheer up. Reveal your charm and have Won-Won pissed off."

Hermione smiled.

XXX

Draco finished his bread. With his bag in hand, he walked past them and left the hall. Vaguely he heard her commented on his disappearance.

"Malfoy is pompous than ever recently, isn't he? Yet Parvarti said he was cool..."

 _If you know the handkerchief is mine, perhaps you will find it unworthy of wiping tears for you._

With a properly arrogant smile on his face, he left the noisy crowds behind. Today he had Charms for the third and fourth class, which would not begin until two hours later. Maybe he should go to the eighth floor first...

"Draco." Someone called him. He turned around and saw Snape hurry down the staircase across from him, black robes swinging. The instant he heard Snape's whisper, he was chilled to the bone.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you. Follow me."

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

 **I have divided this chapter into three parts because of the change of perspectives. The first and the last are internal-visual-angle and from particularly Draco's perspective while the second part is from the third-person omniscient point of view. The good news is that I am finally able to discern the shifting of narratives and separate them, since the original author did not distinguish them properly. The bad news is that my change of POVs is too stiff and unnatural, due to my poor writing skills. I do believe they should have not been organized this way. Please be tolerant if you find this fiction not fluent enough.**


	10. Chapter 10 INTERROGATION (2)

**Chapter 10 Interrogation (2)**

The Dark Lord did not summon a follower without a good reason, let alone the pawns skulking among the enemies like them. Draco sat still on the sofa, his fingers stuck deep in the crochet cushion, feeling every second going by a pure torment.

Two hours ago, after he followed Snape to his office, they flooed to a dingy alley, from where he was side-apparated four times in succession and then arrived at the front door of Malfoy Manor. Yes, Malfoy Manor, the place he had lived for sixteen years since his birth, was no longer his home - no homeowner needed to go under rigid examination before he was allowed to enter his house, nor did any homeowner have to endure a group of Death Eaters' sarcasm and jeers at his own place.

Snape had been in the meeting room for more than an hour and no sound escaped from that closed door. The Carrows had been looking at him, so he could not go to find how his mother was...had she known he was called by the Dark Lord, she must be more than appalled...The thought made him break into a cold sweat, when a harsh voice rang from across the room.

"Look, this is our guest today! Little Malfoy looks so unscathed. He must be enjoying a much better life than we are." The werewolf Greyback bared his yellow teeth to him and the Carrows guffawed.

Draco looked away in disgust.

"Tut, tut, a Malfoy is a Malfoy. You smell so delicious." Greyback walked closer, lowered his head and sniffed at him, as if he was a lovely steak.

Draco could barely palliate his frayed nerves to overlook the provocation, his fear driving him to tremble and his rage reddening his pale face. He clasped his wand in the pocket and responded in a hoarse voice, "Stay away from me, wolf."

"Why, are you ordering me? Who are you to order me, brat? Malfoy is over, you bastar-" The werewolf roared, the stink smell in his mouth nearly waving Draco's hair. Before the last several letters had come out, Draco's wand was pointed at his forehead.

The werewolf halted, and even Draco himself was looking at his own hand in amazement-he really had stood against the atrocious werewolf.

"What's your meaning? How dare you raise your wand at me ?" Greyback's long-yellow-fingernail hand clawed Draco's arm with such force that it nearly crushed Draco's bones.

Draco felt veins throbbing in his temples as he saw the werewolf's jaw wide open, the smell of blood emitting from his scarlet tongue, and the Carrows laughing at him. They didn't think he could pose any threat, since he was nothing but a spoiled, pusillanimous, and worthless sixteen year old. His shame overcoming fear and his pain bringing courage, Draco controlled his limbs and flames burned in his eyes - He would not continue like this, he must make a change and he had resolved to change. If he still flinch from the Death Eaters, how could he ever face the Dark Lord!

Gritting his teeth, Draco replied coldly, "Whether Malfoy is over or not, do you want to have a try? "

The Carrows whistled. "Cool, got spine? Even Lucius doesn't have the guts to speak to Greyback like that, how – "

A bolt of red light struck and the werewolf was left unconscious. Without turning his head, Draco threw another purple light and all his efforts in this semester paid off – Amycus fell to the ground, shrieking and writhing.

"Stop! How dare you attack us and use Cruciatus Curse on her!"

"This is Malfoy Manor." Draco pointed his wand squarely at Alecto, the success of two curses greatly boosting his confidence. He looked at the man in contempt, his eyes full of hatred. "We are honored to offer it to the Dark Lord as the headquarter, but you, if it were not for the fact that you are servants of our Lord, why do you think you deserve to stay here?"

"How dare you – "

"How dare I?" With a flick of the wrist Draco disarmed Alecto before he could take action. There were soft sounds coming from inside of the closed door and Draco hastily occluded his mind. He was to convince the Dark Lord that he was no longer the useless boy. "Maybe it escaped you, but don't you forget that Bellatrix is my aunt. She can use the Unforgivable Curses on disobedient Death Eaters, so can I!"

The Carrows cringed unconsciously. The boy standing before them had grown tall, and although his shoulders might not be as strong as an adult's, he was by no means weak – When he was saying those words, murderous madness characteristic of Bellatrix glistened on his otherwise delicate face. They let out a sigh of relief as the door of the meeting room finally opened, for an instant they even forgot the fury of the Dark Lord that might come.

"Look at our little dragon…You've grown up, Draco."

Low, hissing voice sounded, as if the speaker was whispering his ears. Draco looked up and saw the Dark Lord in floor-length robes walk out of the door. The Dark Lord opened up his arms, his crimson eyes on Draco.

The whole room was awash with intimidating magical aura and Draco felt his soul toyed with by an iron hand, only fear and despair left his heart. His wand dropped and his limbs were weak. He walked up amenably, letting the Dark Lord's icy hands fall on his shoulders. His pallid complexion and trembling body seemed to have satiated the Dark Lord, who waved his hand, allowing the relieved Carrows to hold Greyback up and left the room.

"Severus, you can go now. I want to have a little chat with Draco." Voldemort sat on the sofa where Draco had sat before and conjured a bottle of red wine and a goblet out of the air. "You shouldn't disappear for too long under Dumbledore's nose."

"But my Lord, how will Draco return to Hogwarts? He cannot – "

"Didn't you see the fantastic spells just now? I believe he is capable of apparating on his own."

"He's under age, if – "

"I wiped out the Trace when I marked him, Severus. How can my servant be bound by this sort of thing? You may leave now."

The Dark Lord's tone was indisputable. Snape only had a chance to shoot Draco a warning glance when the Dark Lord lowered his head to pour the wine, and then he left compliantly. When he approached the door Narcissa turned up. She held him by the sleeve and looked at him pleadingly. Snape just nodded and walked past her.

"Narcissa, please come in. Don't you want to see your son?"

The doors were shut, silence hanging heavily upon Draco. Though the fireplace held a blazing fire, he felt the air around him cold and thick. The blood in him was congealed, and a chill traveled up the spine to the top of the head, making his mind numb.

Narcissa walked near, trembling, as Draco was kneeling beside Voldemort's feet, his head bowed, completely ignoring her.

"My Lord, Draco…"

"He is doing well and I can see his growth. He will become a competent Death Eater before long. You and Lucius should be proud of him."

"But, but why do you summon him…"

"I just want to check the progress of his task. You are worried too much, Narcissa. Please be seated and have a drink." There was no displeasure in the Dark Lord's voice, who even waved his wand and placed a goblet of wine before her. Narcissa hastened to sit down and grabbed the goblet, but her fingers were shaking so severely that she could barely grasp it.

No need to mind her, Voldmort turned to look at Draco, his thin, grey lips seeming to quirk a little. He did not ask Draco's progress, however. "I heard from Bella that you solved a turmoil in Hogsmeade some time ago."

Narcissa's wine spilled a drop. Not having anticipated the Dark Lord asking his least wanted to be asked question, Draco knelt upright, trying as he might to smooth his voice, as if he was not churning inside. "Yes, I had a glimpse of that necklace, possibly a powerful dark magical artifact. It must be an heirloom from a pureblood family and was stolen for sale by some idiot. That day I saw Potter having a row with Mundungus Fletcher outside the Three Broomsticks, accusing him stealing from Sirius's house, so it's likely to be something from the Blacks."

"Hum, what you say make sense. I shall ask Bella whether she has seen such a necklace." Voldemort sipped his wine and cast a glance at Narcissa who looked as white as a piece of paper. "Yet if I'm not mistaken, Bella also went to Hogsmeade that day, but why, Narcissa?"

Letting go of her goblet, Narcissa fell off the sofa and down on her knees, not able to utter a word. Draco felt burning pain in his heart as he saw the Dark Lord already raise his wand and his crimson eyes widen slightly.

"Don't make me ask you twice, Narcissa. What's there that you can't tell me?"

"My Lord, aunt Bella was looking for me!" Not being able to refrain himself any longer, Draco clutched the bottom of the Dark Lord's robes and explained anxiously, "Mother knew I could get out of the school on that day, and she had intended to see me, but aunt Bella said it was not appropriate, so, so mother asked her to see me instead. You know my mother always cares for me. She wanted to send me something, but it was inconvenient lately in Hogwarts, so she..."

Seeing Draco' panic as he made lame explanations, Voldemort's lips curled and he smiled. "Calm down, Draco. I won't do anything to Narcissa, because she is not one of my Death Eaters. But you are. You should have known how unadvisable rash acts are. Were you discovered, you wouldn't be allowed back to Hogwarts, not to mention accomplish what I ask of you."

Draco released the robes and bowed his head deferentially. He occluded his mind once again with force, knowing what would happen next –

"It's a pity that I have to give you a small punishment – Crucio!"


	11. Chapter 11 FIDELITY (1)

**Chapter 11 FIDElITY (1)**

Narcissa's wail was choked in the throat. Draco was writhing on the ground, an unbearable pain scorching from within his body, like all of his bones were crushed, his wounds were rubbed again and again, and his was skinned and then cut into pieces. The maddening agony was driving his nerve to crack; the seemingly endless excruciation would break down whatever sense of humankind.

He would be driven crazy, just as the Longbottoms were. He had overestimated his courage. He knew well how to cast a Cruciatus Curse, and had practiced it on animals, but he had never fully understood why it was named one of the unforgivables –

because it was truly a torment beyond the realm of morality. Having grown up cosseted, he was scarcely chastised, let alone been beaten, and that was the reason why he harboured an abiding grudge against Potter ever since his rejection on their second meeting, and why the slap from Hermione was so unforgettable. He had not realized his body should be so fragile until now and every part of him was screaming at him, urging him to escape from the extreme pain at all costs.

The Dark Lord needed to do no more than a few Crucios, and Draco would be kissing his feet begging for mercy, and presenting all his secrets in exchange for a quick death. He curled up, his forehead raw from being rubbed on the icy marble ground, and his fingernails broken from convulsive scraping. Suddenly a force yanked his head up. Draco struggled to open his eyes and after his blurring vision cleared, he was hit with a pair of eerie crimson eyes of the Dark Lord.

A slight sense of vigilance managed to strike his broken mind. Draco felt he should be honored, since the Dark Lord went to such trouble to detect his mind. Draco loosened his gritted teeth and screamed out loud, trying as he might to preserve his Occlumency shield with the energy spared from the instant relieve.

Yet the man before him was the best Legilimens, so he had slim chance to hold out on him. Inevitably all kinds of mental images flooded over him, of him stamping on Potter's face, of the trio jumping at his sarcasm in Defense Against the Dark Arts, of him insulting Hermione...how thankful Draco was now for the terrible relationship between them over these years.

 _Think about the Runes, the symbols on the Vanishing Cabinet, and how happy you will be after you decode them! Think about the parchments on which you analyzed the equations, think about..._

The Dark Lord finally turned away his gaze and the sharp pain ceased. Draco collapsed on the ground puffing hard, paralyzed as if all of his bones were moved out. The Dark Lord looked down at him, and spoke with what seemed to be a satisfied smile, "Splendid, Draco. Splendid indeed. You have faith and the pluck, plus you behaved much better than the majority of people under the Cruciatus Curse, including Lucius."

"Thanks you, my Lord." Draco managed to place himself in a kneeling position, and answered humbly, fearfully and gratefully with his dry throat. He caught a glimpse of his mother, who collapsed not far from him, full of tears, lips bleeding from been bitten too hard, and might faint at any time.

The purpose of the Dark Lord was achieved. By torturing Draco and making Narcissa watch, a spoiled sixteen-year-old would succumb to the Cruciatus Curse, and a mother would yield to heartbreak. Just one curse, the Dark Lord would have an utterly unresisting Malfoy family in hand. However, the Dark Lord misjudged Draco, and in the belief that a sixteen-year-old could not conceal anything from him under the Cruciatus Curse, he did not dig up deep in Draco's mind and therefore did not find the hidden memory.

Draco looked down, his limps still shaking from the previous pain, but the small victory sparked a small hope in his desperation-filled heart. The Dark Lord knew too well about the weakness of human beings, but he overlooked the power in people's hearts. He would not understand a Malfoy's loyalty to his family, his mother's love for him, and his love for her, all of which were what the Dark Lord disdained to understand, or rather, refused to understand completely. As a consequence, he made it – he succeeded in concealing his secrets!

"It seems you've been working hard on the task, and have progressed beyond my expectation. Lord Voldemort always rewards and punishes who deserves, therefore – " with a wave of his wand, a piece of parchment fell beside Draco's hand, "I hope you will grasp the three spells soon."

Draco looked delirious. He clutched the parchment and said eagerly, "Thank you, my Lord. I will learn them as soon as possible to serve you better."

"Do not do anything foolish again."

This was to Narcissa, but Draco added immediately, "Yes, my Lord. I won't make the mistake again. Thanks for your leniency. I will complete the task independently – "

The Dark Lord glanced at him and quirked his lips, "You may return to Hogwarts now, Draco. With any luck you may catch the dinner." He then waved his hand and the closed door opened, from which he disappeared gracefully.

Draco reached out for his mother's hand, who was sweating and as still as a statue. He moved nearer, looked into her blue eyes, and managed a smile, "Mother – "

"Draco..." Narcissa held his hand tightly and touched his messy hair and bloodstained face with the other hand. "I'm so sorry..."

"This is not your fault." He whispered in her ears. "Even if you've done nothing, he would still find excuses to punish me. He does not trust us, so we need not to be loyal to him."

Narcissa gasped. Draco put his arms around her reassuringly. He would not show his weakness and fear, for he was the only reliance that his mother could depend upon now and the future of the Malfoy family also lay heavily on his shoulders.

"I will not let you live in fear all day long, nor allow the Dark Lord to ruin the Malfoys – mother you don't need to do anything, just believe me – you believe me, do you?"

She embraced her son tightly and nodded, no longer crying.

"Malfoy, you'd better leave now, or you might be late for your class." A stout Death Eater appeared at the outside door, a fake smile on his face.

Draco stood up slowly despite his weak knees. After a careful look at the parchment in his hand, he waved his wand and burned it. He straightened his back and then walked steadily toward the outside door.


	12. Chapter 12 FIDELITY (2)

Chapter 12 FIDELITY (2)

It was definitely not a good experience to Apparate after a dozen Cruciatus Curses. There was a time when Draco thought he would splinch and the places he appeared at were not exactly where he had intended to be. After the last Apparation he found himself  
in a dingy ally, leaning against the damp wall, trying as he might to suppress the overwhelming surge of nausea and dizziness. Had he eaten more than breakfast during the long, excruciating day, he must be vomiting now. Trudging the mud toward a nearby  
fireplace, Draco waited irritably for the kids playing hide-and-seek to run away, and then scattered a pinch of floo powder before he shouted out the name of his destination.

Emerald green flame flashed in Severus Snape's office. Draco fell onto the cold stone, coughing hard. On hearing the sound, the man sitting behind his desk buried in papers lazily raised his head and darted a glance at Draco. His expression changed slightly.  
Draco knew he must be looking like crap, as even Snape hurried to him in a nervous manner. Snape lent him a hand and deposited him on the sofa, and then conjured a bottle of potion from the other side of the office.

"Alleviation Draught, a sedative in treating neuralgia after the Cruciatus Curse."

"Thank you, Professor." Draco quivered. The final return to Hogwarts steadied his strained nerves, giving away the fear and nervousness that welled in him. This was not the time to relax, he warned himself. The man before him was a loyal follower of the  
Dark Lord, so he must tread carefully before the man sensed anything abnormal.

Draco downed the potion, cured the cuts on his forehead and fingers and wiped the blood and sweat off his face. Snape sat opposite to him silently and watched him, who did not speak until Draco rose and walked near the door.

"What have you done to deserve the Cruciatus Curse? For your tardy progress on that task?"

"Nothing, Professor." Draco replied curtly, reluctance on his face.

Snape raised his brow, a sneer on his face.

"You do not trust me, Draco? Are you questioning my loyalty to the Dark Lord?"

"Of course I trust your loyalty." Draco managed a smile. "But it has nothing to do with me not reporting to you my own business."

Snape looked at Draco, whose trembling hand grasped his wand tightly.

"You are terrified, Draco. Let me help you ..."

"No! I don't need that! He chose me, so I must complete it on my own!" Draco exclaimed hysterically. He must get out of this place soon. He was too tired and too tense to keep his emotion in check. "Or what would face me is far more than the Cruciatus  
Curse. Aren't you clear about that, Professor Snape?"

Snape pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He was about to say something when the office door was knocked.

"Severus? Are you there? It's been half an hour since my Christmas party began, but you didn't show up, so - "

The door opened and produced a smiling Slughorn, who was wearing a tasseled velvet to match his smoking jacket. He was startled by the confrontation.

"Severus, what happened? This is – "

"Malfoy," said Draco crossly. He glanced away, impatient to see the silly look of Slughorn's failure to recall his name.

"Why is Mr. Malfoy in your office, and … " The sight of Draco's pallid complexion obviously did not give Slughorn the impression of small talk.

"Malfoy and I were over the discussion of some problems in Defense Against the Dark Arts, so I somehow forgot about your party. I'm really sorry." Without slightest repentance Snape walked up to Slughorn, and said reluctantly, "Come, a host like you should  
not be absent too long from your students."

"Sure, sure." Slughorn patted Snape on the shoulder, laughing, and then as if his arm could be stretched, he grabbed Draco, and pushed them all to the stairs before they could protest. "Mr. Malfoy must join us. Such a good student you are, to talk about  
study this late. Christmas is coming, lad. You should have a break!"

 _I do need a break. I need to have a nap, or go to the Room of Hidden Things – but never some stupid Christmas party!_ Draco wanted to pull himself free, yet the old Professor gripped his arm so tightly that he could not get rid of him without  
being rude. Before long, the two grumpy Slytherins were thrown into a room draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings. The appearance of the three caused the surprise of students who were deeply in talking.

"Continue, everyone! Please continue!" shouted Slughorn, signaling the band to continue playing the music. People looked away and went back on their discussion. Snape was dragged towards a group who looked like officers from the Ministry of Magic.

Draco hesitated at the door, several girls in colorful dressing robes walking past him, giggling. Not far from him stood Blaise, back toward him, talking animatedly with a woman wearing elaborate makeup. He would rather not to be seen by his loud friend…  
Draco sighed irritably, deciding to hide in some quieter place and leave soon. He could not stand showing up in a party looking terrible, stupid or not. But maybe he should find himself something to eat before leaving.

Draco headed for a small table beside the window, which was laden with snacks and bottles of butterbeer. The heavy window curtains would make a perfect hiding place, yet he had hardly reached the table before a warm and soft body hit him on the back.  
The smell and feeling were so wonderful and familiar that he turned and held her waist out of reflex.

"Oh, thanks … Malfoy?!" Hermione managed to keep her feet, her eyes widened at the sight of the person in front of her. However, the next instant she did not flinch away from him; instead, she pushed him behind the curtains and hastily closed the curtains,  
leaning against the window with him. The sound of a pair of hurrying feet rang outside, at which Draco squinted his eyes, curious about who it was that should drive Hermione to prefer to hide with her enemy rather be found.

She was wearing a light pink dress which adored her smooth and glowing skin, brunette long hair loosely braided behind the head, a few little pearls shining in it. Beautiful, though a bit disheveled. The mere sight of her could dissipate the worry haunting  
him. Draco smiled briefly.

"What the hell are you doing here, Granger?" His voice was much softer than he had expected.

Blushed, she took at quick glance at him.

"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," said she uneasily.

"Cormac? Cormac McLaggen? Your date then? What, he harassed you?"

Sensing the annoyance in his voice, Hermione looked at him strangely. Draco Malfoy looked much paler than usual, noticeable shadows under his eyes, and he seemed enveloped in a gray shroud of fatigue. His clothes were crumpled and stained with mud, contrary  
to his usual neat appearance. In the dim light, Hermione could see he tilt his head and his gaze lazily fall on her face, the instant of which she was touched with something called tenderness. Feeling embarrassed about staying with her enemy in such  
a harmonious atmosphere, Hermione looked away awkwardly. She had invited McLaggen to piss Ron off, only to find her in a worse situation.

"Yeah, well, something like that. I really should not have asked him, McLaggen was like an octopus."

Draco looked away from her and made out the crowds outside the curtains vaguely.

"Then I must pay tribute to him, for he managed to make you fear him more that you hate me in one night." Draco said in a flat tone.

Face redder, Hermione hesitated at Draco's blank face, and replied, "No, I mean at least you won't – you saved us last time after all…"

Her voice was gentle and soft, devoid of anger and accusation. At such a simple sentence, warmness and sweetness welled up in his heart. Draco froze, the realization that this friendly chat must be stopped dawning on him. The experience of Legilimency  
was still vivid and his mind was like a basket hung over the Dark Lord's arm, which could be checked any time. This kind of memory was too dangerous to allow it to happen. With eyes closed, Draco regained his mask of hauteur and coldness.

"At least I won't harass you? That much was true, because my taste was not so low. As for what happened last time, I've told you, it was an unfortunate accident, for which I feel deep regret to have disrupted your visit to Merlin."

Hermione was speechless. She could hardly believe that she had just thought Malfoy was not that annoying. She must have been driven crazy by Cormac to even start a normal conversation with him. She glared at him angrily and decided to leave when the curtains  
were pulled back and a big yellow head stuck in.

"Oh, Hermione you naughty, why are you hiding here, I've been looking for you – Huh?"

Hermione looked at the head of Cormac McLaggen, alarmed, and retreated back to Draco. Obviously in her view the man who held strong interest in her was a greater threat than him who showed little interest.

McLaggen stepped in and eyed them suspiciously. Had it been any other combination, he would naturally take it as something sweet and secret, but Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy? Were they hiding here quarreling or dueling?


	13. Chapter 13 Secrets

" **W** hy are you here, Malfoy?" After a moment of hesitation, McLaggen asked perplexedly.

Malfoy just stared at him for a few seconds and told him to sod off.

The huge blond head froze.

Hermione was tempted to laugh. She never knew this spoiled Malfoy could be so intimidating as Professor Snape that Cormac was utterly terrorized, retreating out of the curtain without a second word, with an oddly vacant look on his face.

Seldom had she paid close attention to Malfoy before, except for a few occasions when she thought he was up to something, so now Hermione blinked, feeling somewhat bewildered and curious. Ever since this term began, every time she spotted him, he became more reclusive, enigmatic and also much more intimidating, as if the one-time coward lion could turn into a fully-grown man over one night and was no longer merely a boy. She could hardly recognize this Malfoy. Perhaps he really was marked, and therefore exhibited so dramatic transition?

While numerous thoughts were roaming in Hermione's head, Malfoy opened the curtains, walked out, and was instantly dragged into the crowds by Professor Slughorn. Spotting Harry, Luna and Professor Snape standing in that group as well, Hermione moved toward them discreetly. Harry, while trying as he might to avoid the scathing look from Professor Snape, studied Malfoy narrowly with an odd expression on his face. Maybe he was also curious to know why Malfoy looked so pale and dreadful. Hermione picked up a bottle of wine from a nearby plate and sneaked up, so that she could hear their conversation.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," announced Harry defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Professor Slughorn.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," broke in Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

Mead spurt out of Harry's mouth and almost everyone except Professor Snape was convulsed with laughter. Malfoy's lips quirked slightly. When he dragged a hand through his hair, Hermione saw with astonishment a blood stain on his cheek, and bruises on his fingers too.

 _How come Malfoy got hurt in school? He skipped both Charms and Potions today. What happened to him? Did he leave for some dangerous purpose?_

Hermione's heart leapt as someone pushed her on the back. She squeaked, wine spilling all over her chest. People standing around all turned to look at her.

Hermione's face was flushed with embarrassment. Indignantly she turned around, only to find none was there, and mingling with the nearby crowd was a smirking Romilda Vane. Due to her recent crush on Harry, she had more than one time showed hostility against Hermione, who by her account "is always clinging to Harry and refusing to leave".

 _Well, Harry, this is your fault again. Only I am the one to suffer!_

With much annoyance Hermione immediately pulled out her handkerchief from her pocket, but she hesitated, not mopping the mess away. The pure white cloth of the handkerchief felt as smooth as skin, and the crystals on the four corners were glistening elegantly. It looked too precious to wipe wine stains…

"Hermione!" Harry rushed to her rescue and dried up her dress with his wand. Hermione looked up gratefully, catching a glimpse of Professor Snape, who was pulling his gaze away from her, his sallow face stiff, sheer shock and anger hardly concealed in his eyes. He then turned abruptly and snatched Malfoy's arm.

"It's quite late, Professor Slughorn. I regret to say that we must make a leave. I'd like a word with Draco."

Malfoy turned his head aside, apparently unwilling to submit to his professor's command.

Professor Slughorn blinked at them. "Now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard –"

"I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be with students." replied Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco." He dragged Malfoy out.

Hermione exchanged a confusing look with Harry, but was once again distracted by Slughorn's harangue.

* * *

As the office door shut with a bang, Snape cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door instantly. With an annoyed tsk, he continued waving his wand, "Protego totalum … Muffliato …" together with a couple of other detecting and warning spells.

"I don't understand, Professor …" his arm aching from Snape's previous clutches, Draco grunted sullenly, but his protest was dismissed by Snape, who carried diligently on with his spells, not satisfied until the office was totally impenetrable and impregnable.

Snape flounced toward the sofa beside the mantelpiece, sat down, and asked slowly as his dark eyes gazing at Draco. "Where is your Book of Memory, Draco?"

As if struck by lightning, or paralysed by dozens of Full Body-Bind Curses, Draco was so dumfounded that he could not feel even his own fingers. Had Snape accused him of betraying the Dark Lord, he would not be more shocked.

"I've no idea what you are talking about." Seconds later Draco replied through gritted teeth. He glared into Snape's eyes savagely.

"Don't play dumb!" snapped Snape. With a stern expression, he continued slowly. "The Book of Memory belongs to the Malfoy heir since his birth, and must be carried with himself thereafter, representing the honour and nobility of the most ancient House of Malfoy. Draco, don't tell me you are not aware of its significance."

In the moment of dead silence, all Draco could hear was his own heaving breathing and fast heartbeat. How could he not be aware of that? Made from numerous precious magical materials, woven with his lanugo to form a particular memory function, and with corners adorned with four magical crystals, it was the greatest blessing from the Malfoy family. It certified him as the heir, recorded his life, and would be the solidest proof when his offspring wrote biography for him after his death. Other than his own life, the most valuable thing he owned was the Book of Memory. This was a secret shared only among the heads and heirs of the Malfoy family. He had not thought it possible that anyone would discover it, yet why was Snape questioning him now?

"I hope you can give me a reasonable explanation as to how it came into Miss Granger's possession."

How was he to explain it? The Book of Memory could never be stolen or taken away. The only circumstance when it was found on others would be a result of the owner's willingly giving which, as a matter of fact, was forbidden, and therefore the meaning of it – he would not risk letting Snape know!

"You seem to have known a lot," Draco looked up and replied with a sneer. Under his sleeve his gripped his wand tightly, as he weighed the feasibility of Obliviating or murdering Snape. "Where did you come by this piece of knowledge by the way? The Dark Lord couldn't know, neither could my mother. Professor Snape, I am also in need of a reasonable explanation."

"Move your hand from your wand, Draco," leaning back on the sofa, Snape's black robes seemed to have blended into the shadows, and only his face was lit by the beaming firelight. "Your father told me before his imprisonment."

"Why did he tell you?" Draco's eyes widened with astonishment. "How could he tell you?"

"Because he wasn't sure he would make it out of Azkaban alive. Narcissa was not entitled to know, and yet you were too young. He worried that if he died, you would probably freak out, forgetting all about it." Snape held up one finger to stop Draco's retort and continued. "Hence I, as the only friend he had some trust in, was made a trustee by Lucius in accordance with the Malfoy custom, for fear that his life story would bury into oblivion."

"He would rather trust it with a friend, than with his own son." Draco bit his lips bitterly.

"I must say that your recent performance is quite satisfying. As the Dark Lord put it, ' _I can see you've grown up_ '. Should Lucius see you as you are now, he might no longer need me as a trustee." With a rare gentleness Snape comforted him. "So get rid of your unnecessary hostility toward me, and let us speak up as grown-ups. Draco, I'm only trying to help you."

Draco stared down at Snape's eyes. Maybe Snape was being serious, but his father trusting him did mean he could trust him – Telling truth to Snape was as much as telling him he was not following the Dark Lord faithfully. Draco clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply.

"Thank you, but I don't need it." said Draco coldly.

"What is it that you don't need?" Abruptly Snape straightened up from the sofa, eyeing him closely in fury. "You don't need me to assist you? Or you don't need me to know why Granger has your Book of Memory? Legilimens!"

Shite.

He had not anticipated, or subconsciously, had not thought it possible that Snape would do anything to him, so his guard was down. He didn't even have the chance to put up his Occlumency shield … Draco was thrown off-balance and fallen onto the sofa. Everything surrounding him vanished; image after image broke free out of control, racing rapidly through him mind.

 _Standing in a long queue, as Professor McGonagall called out "Granger, Hermione!" holding a long roll of parchment, an eleven-year-old boy watched a little girl with bushy brown hair running to the stool, sneering with Goyle at her large front teeth, while secretly finding her rather cute …_

 _A twelve-year-old boy lounged in the corner of the library eating chocolates, when Hermione together with several other girls were sitting on the other side of the bookshelf chatting about boys. On hearing her comment on him that he was "a superciliously Pompous, self-asserting, spoiled brat, though pretty", he forgot all about chocolates, and could not resist snickering to himself._

 _At the age of thirteen, when he was jeering at Hagrid and Buckbeak, Hermione dashed over and slapped him hard across the face. As he retreated, covering the face while glaring at her, somehow his heart was not filled with rage, but felt hollow inside._

 _At the age of fourteen … At the age of fifteen … At the age of sixteen, he rushed over the snow-covered ground fearfully, covered her with his own body, and were then hurled together by the explosion … He put his Book of Memory outside the classroom door, murmuring that he would protect her, that the most regrettable thing he did in his life was calling her "Mudblood"…_

Six years was neither too long, nor too short, when his happiness and sorrow were inextricably entwined. The pain brought up by the deeply buried memory was starting to resist Snape's intrusion …

Draco raised his wand.

"Protego!"

Hit by the Shield Charm, Snape staggered backward, his wand flying sideways. All of a sudden, Draco's mind was teeming with foreign memories and visions.

 _Snape stumbled into a damaged house, finding in the middle of the room lying a woman, whose green eyes blank and empty, long red hair cascading down the ground …_

 _Snape kneeled before Dumbledore, wailing … "Keep her – keep them safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In – in return?" … "Anything." …_

 _A teenager Snape struggled to his feet, a bespectacled boy with raven hair standing in front of him, surrounded by a bunch of students jeering and laughing. Anger and shame beyond control, Snape shouted at a girl with red hair and green eyes, "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" …_

Draco was totally shaken when he realised he had uncovered such a taboo.

Snape hit him heavily in the arm; his wand flew out of his hand. All the images around him evaporated.

The two men lay respectively on the opposite sofa, panting heavily, eying each other with a menace of murder. It was hard to say who had greater malice.

Snape's lips were quavering and his face was white as sheet. Draco knew he could not be any better. The room once again fell into dead silence. Fire was crackling steadily in the fireplace, and at the same time danger emotions were boiling up, waiting to erupt just like an active volcano. Time passed. Suddenly, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, Draco roared with laughter.

"Ha ha … ha ha … ha ha ha ..."

"What are you laughing at!" snapped Snape.

"What am I laughing at? Only two idiots with their mind full of 'Mudbloods' …"

Just like his carelessness, Snape too dropped his vigilance. As Snape had witnessed his most guarded memory, he also had had a glimpse of Snape's due to the rebound in Legilimency. Those were but fragments, yet the secret betrayed was so alarmingly similar to his own. When grey eyes met black ones, they both seemed to decipher the pain underneath, boiling night and day, a torment that could be shared to no one.

They looked away, breaking the eye contact. Neither had the desire to ridicule the other. Both had lost the right to accuse anyone.

Who the woman in Snape's memory was Draco did not know, but now at least he knew Severus Snape had always been working for the Order of Phoenix. He marvelled that the sinister man should have the gut to become a double agent under the very noses of the Dark Lord – which was a relief to him, for he no longer needed to be so careful around him as he had been.

To these Slytherins, what trust could be better built upon than having something on each other?

"Get out," hissed Snape. His cold fury might be able to knock over any other student. "Breathe what you saw to no one."

"The same to you, Professor." replied Draco icily, before fetching his wand and stowing it in his pocket.

Draco felt utterly exhausted. One with an iron will would have also been worn out after so many strikes during one day. He stumbled to the door, opened the door and then hesitated.

"My Book of Memory. I'm not taking it back."

The heavy door closed. Footsteps died away and silence fell. At last, the man in the room spoke in a whisper.

"I understand."


	14. Ch14 Outcomes of Declaration of Love

As the first snowstorm blotted out the sky and the castle, Christmas finally came to an end. After a whole night's whistling and blowing, the wind gradually died down. When Draco woke up and drew open the curtains, all he saw was the clear blue sky and the snow-coated mountains beneath it; the sun's dazzle on the snow almost blinded him.

Many more students had stayed at Hogwarts during the holiday under the shadow of the Dark Lord's return, yet Draco was the only Slytherin student that remained. Not being able to go back home for Christmas dinner and presents for the first time in his life, plus the benefit of being on the receiving end of those curious glances from the other three houses, forced him to pack loads of bread and cheese and settle at the Room of Requirement, studying day and night the runes on the Vanishing Cabinet.

By the end of Christmas, his efforts had paid off; half of those faded and broken runes were restored, far more than what he had expected. And that he had lost his weight was merely the by-product. Draco rushed to his dormitory and had a good shower before he was seated in the Great Hall, devouring the last meal of the holiday. He had to admit, that although rational thinking had kept him staying in a dump, his stomach was protesting loudly against the dry bread and greasy cheese.

Therefore, the moment when Blaise flew at him, questioning sympathetically what he had suffered over the holiday, Draco swore that this was the last time he sacrificed his appetite.

"What about a portion of strawberry tart, Draco? I've brought it from France. You'll love it!"

"Thanks, but it looks cloying at the hour." Eyes lingering on the pink cream on the corner of the boy's mouth, Draco shoved away the pastry that had been stuck under his nose. Then he quickly changed into his robes, and left the dormitory. Leaving the snacks behind, Blaise hurried to follow him up the stairs to the common room, which was crowded with people.

"Whoa!" Blaise squeezed into the crowds and exclaimed in excitement. "Apparition Lessons! Fantastic! Only 12 Galleons per person! Professor Snape had suggested that every student that would turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next sign it up. C'mon, Draco. Let's do it." Without waiting for an answer, Blaise signed both of their names at the bottom. Waiting outside the crowd with a sour look, Draco itched to tell the over-delighted boy that he refused to waste any time or money on a skill that he was well acquainted with.

When they arrived in the Hall, Draco found all the students seemed to be talking about Apparition lessons. He looked toward the Gryffindor table. Potter and several other students were discussing something excitedly together while Hermione was sitting aside, looking a bit anxious.

Draco smiled slightly, knowing she always felt slightly unsure of herself when it came to physical actions, just as she did with Quidditch. Now she must be worried about not doing well enough or falling behind others.

 _You are smart and excellent, girl. Don't let that bother you._

He was sipping the tea when the post owls arrived. A tawny owl swooped down, landed in front of him, and held out a leg.

"So, Draco …" Spotting the fainted smile on Draco's face and knowing he was in a good mood, Blaise decided it was time to raise questions.

"What?" Draco put a Knut into the owl's leather pouch and took the newspaper.

"Since you were always disappearing last term –"

"I was in the library."

"But so many times I couldn't find you there!"

"That's because you didn't look carefully. I sat in a secluded place." Draco lied without blinking an eye as he unfolded the Daily Prophet.

At his earnest expression, a puzzled look flickered across Blaise's face.

"Ok, then how about you not act alone this semester again? Crabbe and Goyle said they were at a loss without your instructions."

Draco was lost for words. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't the slightest idea of what to do for themselves. They did as they were told by their parents. Following him was also initially their families' requirements. But they were not Death Eaters. He would not have them involved this task, nor Blaise, so maybe he should have a talk with them …

"And Pansy said she hadn't had a real conversation with you last semester. She complained to me yesterday about not receiving your Christmas present … She's really into you, mate, but do you have the same feeling …" on and on Blaise droned.

"What are you getting at?" Draco stopped leafing the newspaper and narrowed his eyes.

"It's just that Pansy …" Blaise's eyes directed Draco to the other side of the long table, where stood an anxious-looking Pansy, whose round face was flushed with excitement, making the tiny freckles on her nose more conspicuous than ever. The noise and clamour in the Hall subsided peculiarly. Half of the crowds stopped whatever they were doing and looked blatantly in this direction, while the other half were peeping out of corner of their eyes; even Potter was watching him attentively. Draco had never anticipated that his romantic life could become a hit in Hogwarts.

Hermione was observing Draco Malfoy along with other people. There standing in the Great Hall was him, arms crossed, black robes outlining his tall and slim figure, beneath the frozen rays of the winter sun that streamed through the ceiling and radiated off him, silent and motionless.

Hearing others whispering and muttering, she found the old, nasty Malfoy long gone, the one that had strut around the castle as if he owned the place, the one that was full of himself, sharp and aggressive, always seeking chances to provoke and retaliate. But he was different now. Since when had he become so quiet and reclusive? Yes, his abusive remarks were far from extinct, yet he was no longer all set with sharp thorns, ready to attack; instead, he had wrapped himself with a shell of ice, hard to reach out to.

"What do you mean, Pansy?" Malfoy stared at Pansy Parkinson, smiling slightly. And more than half of the girls, to Hermione's annoyance, blushed at his smile; Parkinson's face was as scarlet as a red banner.

"I like you – no, I love you, Draco!" Cried out Parkinson, voice shaking.

At the declaration there was a long silence. Then came Malfoy's reply, abnormally calm in comparison with the sighs and mutterings of the crowds.

"And so what?" Malfoy asked, laughing humourlessly. "You love me, so I have to love you back?"

Hermione saw Parkinson turn stiff instantly; people gasped, shocked by Malfoy's callousness.

The small smile on Malfoy's face disappeared. He turned his gaze from Parkinson, whose tears were rolling down silently, and looked ahead. When Hermione met his cold, grey eyes, she was hit by the sadness in them.

"But you cannot require me of that. There's always somebody pining with unrequited love. You're not the only one." Malfoy picked up his schoolbag and began walking out. "And Blaise, next time, do not meddling. Even if you wish to."

Zabini watched his friend leave, chagrined ; Parkinson ran out of the Hall, face in her palms; the rest students were discussing what had happened in hushed whispers. Hermione could hear small cries of "cool" or speculations like "do you think if that means he has someone in mind".

"What did Malfoy mean?" asked Harry perplexedly.

"I thought Malfoy would have been happy, at least been smug." Ron looked back at Harry, also bewildered.

"Maybe that's his way of expressing that you were not good enough for me." Ginny joked, "Pretty cool, isn't it? What do you say, Hermione?"

"I think he's right," Hermione looked away and gazed at the carved patterns on the wall with a sudden interest, "People do pine with unrequited love …"

Seeming to have thought of something of their own, the four of them all turned red. But this had nothing to do with what had happened before.

* * *

March came, and snow began to melt. The weather was still chilly, with the north wind roaring, and the gloomy mood deepening at sight of bare ground and the grey Forest.

Draco continued his study and work according to schedule. The rest of runes were far more intricate, so he had devoted more and more time and energy to them. This plus practising spells had made him more reclusive than ever. Apart from the time when he attended classes, had meals and retired, he was hardly seen by anyone else. Learning from what happened last time, even Blaise would not dare to interfere. Only when he had skipped two Apparition lessons on end did Blaise voice his complaint.

"It was you who signed me up for it. Why would I participate in some training now that I've already learnt the thing?" retorted Draco as he stabbed at the lamb chops with his fork languidly.

The task of amending the Vanishing Cabinet was almost done, and as long as the testing went well, his plan would be half successful. Therefore, Draco had a rarely good mood that day; at least he was so before Charms in the afternoon, before his eagle owl hovered outside the window of the library, tapping insistently till his attention was torn away from his book.

Draco unrolled the parchment and glanced at it, his happy mood totally gone.

On the parchment was his mother's elegant writing, talking about the trivialities, but hidden underneath was the information that Aunt Bella was punished for the last incident and was not sent to work outside again, that she was resentful and left the Malfoy Manor yesterday, saying she was to "give Dumbledore's lovely flock some excitement". " _I don't know what she is aiming to do. Please take care._ "

Some excitement? Last time it was a necklace that blew up half the street. What could it be this time?

The power of the Dark Lord was growing day after day. Even the Daily Prophet, which used to be an ostrich with head in the dirt, could no longer turn a blind eye to the series of horrific incidents. The Ministry was losing the battle against the Death Eaters, and meanwhile the internal conflict within the Ministry not only did not stop, but intensified. It was possible that the Dark Lord had already infiltrated the Ministry. The Damocles sword of war was hanging over everyone's head, and he was one of the pieces on the chessboard. Agreements with the Order of the Phoenix must be reached as soon as possible, especially under the threat of Bellatrix.

Draco replied a short letter to his mother, asking her to mind Aunt Bella's whereabouts. Little effect as it might take, Draco could not for now work out a better to way to prevent her. And just as Potter always went seeking trouble, Draco bet the so-called "excitement" would have something to do with the three of them.

 _As if I haven't had enough on my plates!_ Draco glanced at Potter, who was waving his wand like a troll, grinning foolishly.

 _Why is it that Hermione can't break with the two buffoons?_ The more he looked at them, the more indignant he became. Draco gave his wand a quick flick, and the block of wood before him was burned to ashes in an instant.

"Well done," cried Flitwick, "Mr. Malfoy has succeeded in the nonverbal spell! But next time please control your magic. Your spell is done correctly, yet the magic in it is overly strong. We only want a fire, after all." At that Flitwick conjured another block of wood for him.

Draco curled his lips and tapped the wood with his wand, feeling burning it to ashes was far more suitable to his mood than lighting a fire. Due to his lapse of concentration, the wood caught fire as if fuelled and flames abruptly leapt up towards the ceiling. Flitwick's beard was singed; two Slytherin students nearby fell off their stools; the Gryffindors were jeering and clapping, in retaliation for the derision of the Slytherins when Dean Thomas blew up his wood.

"Aguamenti! Oh dear… Please stay behind after class, Mr. Malfoy. I think you need to learn to have control over your magic. Now, class is over. Please keep practicing nonverbal spells. Anyone who does not succeed in the next class will have to analyse the theory of nonverbal spells."

The other students left the classroom, groaning and sighing. Draco stood shocked, not receiving well the news, and not even reacted when Potter and Weasley gloated over him.

He got a detention! For not being able to control his magic! Even first years would not have such problem.

"Sir, it was just an accident, you really don't need to …" Having listened to Flitwick rambling on about how to control magic for half an hour, Draco was swearing impatiently under his breath, thinking it ridiculous that someone should really study something as basic and natural as this when suddenly an idea popped into his mind.

"Sir, by using the method you explained, is it possible to cut off the magic in an instant and make the spell ineffective?"

Flitwick paused. He raised his head and looked up at Draco quizzically. "It could work if you practice it hard. But why such trouble? If you don't want your spell to work, why not stop casting it?"

"Er… it was just an thought. Next time I will have control over my magic. Thank you, Professor. May I leave now?"

"Sure, you may go. You have made great progress, Mr. Malfoy. Whatever has happened around you does not define who you are. You are still one of the Hogwarts students. Just keep it up."

Draco was gobsmacked as he watched the teacher leaving. He reflected upon his recent behaviour, trying to find something irregular that induced the words of sympathy, but none was found.

He looked down at the block of wood, tapped it with his wand and pronounced "Incendio". A few sparks sprang off the wood, but the wood did not burn. It flew up in the air.

Maybe he did need to practice hard.


	15. Chapter 15 The Unescapable Past

**I** t was late. He must have missed the dinner. Having stayed at the Charms classroom practicing on a block of wood till it was turned into ashes, Draco headed directly for the seventh floor. Walking along the corridors where students were chatting and laughing with each other, he found himself quite envy them, longing for those days when he was strutting around the castle, taunting Potter and Weasley for fun with his sidekicks, triumphant if he gained the upper hand, and annoyed sometimes if he was on the losing side … All in all, all he had to deal with were but three peers.

Only ten months had passed since then, and yet it felt so surreal, as if it all happened in another lifetime. He could no longer savor the peaceful school life, since he had already entered a different world.

Draco flashed a smile to a group of girls peeping at him, who squeaked and flushed and then giggled.

 _If only they knew what I was thinking about everyday, they wouldn't dare approach me._ Thought Draco viciously.

Whether it being murdering the Headmaster, or going against the Dark Lord, the problems facing him were so precarious that perhaps he should feel proud for getting himself into such a delicate situation?

Draco made his way to his destination, on the opposite of which was an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet. Listening to the footsteps trailing ten inches behind him, Draco twirled his wand between his fingers, itching to curse someone. What was Potter playing at to stalk him day after day?

That invisibility cloak of Potter was indeed handy, hiding him perfectly, free of the flaw that Disillusionment Charms had of not being able to move fast. But then again, it was just because of the overconfidence in his cloak that Potter made little effort to conceal his footsteps. Such were the Gryffindors that they used far more guts than brains. Since Draco saw him through last time on the train, how come Potter did not think he would be exposed the second time?

Draco walked past the Room of Requirement without stop, and then turned right unhesitatingly, as if he was just passing by. Potter, who knew the existence of the hidden room, hesitated for a moment by the room, not following up close. And that moment was enough for Draco.

Abruptly Draco pushed open the door of an empty classroom nearby, casted upon himself a Disillusionment Charm in a second, and retreated backwards to the wall opposite the door. Hearing the sound of opening the door, his stalker immediately gave up investigating the Room of Requirement and hurried along. When he approached the door and was peering inward, Draco, who had been counting his footsteps, stunned him wordlessly. And so fell "the Chosen One".

"How on earth did you manage to escape from the Dark Lord alive more than once? I find it quite hard to imagine. Tsk tsk!" Draco removed the invisibility cloak from Potter, who was lying on the ground, his glasses awry, a piece of parchment grasped in his hand. Fishing out the parchment, Draco was awestruck by it at the first sight.

On the parchment was a detailed map of Hogwarts Castle and the grounds beyond, including many secret passageways out of the school that Draco had no knowledge of. What was more remarkable was the moving dots, each labeled with its corresponding name. Looking at the map carefully, Draco finally came to know how Potter had behaved so actively without being caught by Filch for years.

At the moment the dot belonging to Hermione Granger was in a nearby corridor. Maybe she had come with Potter for the seventh floor and chosen to wait for her friend while Potter went seeking him. Staring at the minuscule dot, for a while Draco battled with himself.

 _No, I must memorize the secret passages on the map now, put it back in Potter's hand, and get myself inside the Room of Requirement before anyone knew_ – yet as he was thinking, his feet had already brought him to the corridor where Hermione was – _instead of stupidly admiring (yes, he should use the word "admiring"!) that Granger who seemed to be in a daze._

Hermione was sitting on the sill of an open window with two schoolbags lying near her feet. Her chin and lips were muffled up in a long red scarf, while her eyes were gazing at somewhere distant. Twilight shone through the window behind her and poured down on the dark stone floor. The vision was like an old painting depicting a young maid, who was such a combination of tranquility and warmness that Draco held his breath for the sight.

Something was in Hermione's hand that she was touching with her delicate fingers. Draco knew without looking that it was his Book of Memory, the closest existence to his life, the magic connection between which gave him the ability of knowing the surroundings of the book, and when he was close enough, as now, the book would start recording automatically, and the four grey crystals would be shining with a golden gleam.

Draco lay back against the wall and closed his eyes. He just wanted to know she was safe, wanted to fill what was left of his life with memories all about her, and wanted to feel the being of her when she carried it. But wasn't it a quite despicable trick? Was she aware of it, she might throw it away indignantly, or even find ways to destroy it.

Five minutes was gone since his Stunning Spell hit on Potter. Looking at the map in his hand, Draco found with no surprise that a labeled dot showing McGonagall was hurrying out of her office, that Dumbledore was leaving the edge of the Forbidden Forest for the castle, and that another tiny dot had already reached the seventh floor. The Order of Phoenix did have "the Chosen One" securely guarded. Backing away under cover of the statues and suits of armor in the corridor, he stopped midway when he made out the name of the arriver.

"What's your business here, Miss Granger?" Sounded a low, sneering voice. Quiet as a ghost, the appearance of Severus Snape gave Hermione a fright.

"I – just sitting around, Sir."

"Where's Potter?"

"Where? Sorry, I mean, I don't know, Sir. I am not with him –"

"Don't lie, girl. Where is Potter? If Dumbledore's protective spells worked right, he was attacked five minutes ago."

 _Accurate, wasn't it? The protection on Potter._ Stroking his chin, Draco saw Hermione become panicked. Clenching the handkerchief in her fist, she told the truth after a moment of hesitation.

"Harry was following Malfoy. He should be in the Room – the corridor on the east."

"Following Malfoy? Why?"

"… He thought Malfoy was up to something …"

Snape narrowed his eyes but said nothing, then he headed for the that corridor. Hermione picked up the schoolbags and hurried behind. Draco walked lightly ahead of them, keeping a distance within which he could hear their conversation without being discovered.

"What is it in your hand, Miss Granger?" asked Snape suddenly, eyeing the handkerchief in Hermione's hand.

"Just a handkerchief, Sir."

"I wasn't under the impression that you had a handkerchief that's so … dear. You bought it yourself?" His tone dripped sarcasm. Hermione's face reddened instantly.

"It – it was a gift!"

"And who was this overgenerous provider?"

"… I don't know …"

A low, jeering laugh escaped from Snape's lips.

"So it's Mr. 'I don't know' … apparently you like it. Nice, isn't it? Perfect to show off."

"I do like it, but not for the reason of showing it off!" Biting her low lip fumingly, Hermione pocketed the handkerchief and quickened her steps.

"Standing on guard in the chilly, dark corridor all alone at this hour, Miss Granger, what do you think was Mr. Malfoy doing in a corridor?" asked Snape slowly.

"Harry –"

"I wasn't enquiring Potter's opinion, but yours. Aren't you the Gryffindor know-it-all?"

Hermione was caught off guard by the question, her lips parted, evidently confused. Watching her expression, Draco's heart sank, his palm sweating.

"I have no idea, Sir." Answered Hermione airily after a moment of thinking, "Nor do I have any interest in Mr. Malfoy's behavior."

Another jeering smile appeared on Snape's face as he darted a glance in Draco's direction. The moment Draco's eyes met his, he knew that Snape had meant this conversation to be heard by him.

Draco returned to the place where Potter was lying, thrusted the map back in his pocket, and then hid himself behind a suit of armor.

Several minutes later, McGonagall also arrived. She hastily checked the unconscious boy and breathed a sigh of relief when finding the boy was merely stunned.

"Malfoy! Malfoy attacked me! I was following him when he suddenly disappeared and cursed me!" Potter waved his arms madly. "Hermione, have you seen him? He need to get past you if he wanted to leave."

Hermione hesitated, and then shook her head.

"No, I didn't see him coming this way. If it was Malfoy who attacked you … just a Stunning Spell doesn't seem to be his style, does it?"

"Just a Stunning Spell? –Yeah, well, that sounds right …" Potter cooled down and admitted, begrudgingly. "Malfoy would have done something worse."

"It's all right," said Hermione, who was kind of amused by the expression on Potter's face. She patted him on the back. "No need to worry about him."

"He must be plotting something, or else why would he skip the dinner and come here?"

"Okay," replied Hermione, "let's say Malfoy does have a plot, then we need to discuss it further. Come on, we'd better get back now."

Snape was eerily quiet as the scene put on. Watching Hermione and Potter leaving shoulder by shoulder after McGonagall, he let out a snort.

With one wave of his wand, Snape lit the torches along the stone walls.

"Don't act rashly around Potter. That won't do you good." Turning around, Snape spoke quietly to the place where Draco was hiding.

"Only he did not follow me around next time so foolishly."

Snape quirked his lips slightly, seeming to admit that Potter was such a thorn in the side. The chilly wind was blowing, Snape's black robes billowing behind, like a pair of wings.

"How do you feel, after hearing Miss Granger's opinion of you?"

"Professor, I didn't think triviality interested you."

"I swore to take care of you, Draco, so I must warn you –"

"I know what you're aiming at, and I'm also clear that she not only does not 'have any interest in Mr. Malfoy's behavior', but even hate me, so what?" Stepping out of shadow of the armor, Draco revealed himself in front of Snape.

"'There's always somebody pining with unrequited love'? When have you become a somebody as such?" sneered Snape, as if Draco had told him a lame joke.

"When I want something only she owns."

"What is it?"

"Forgiveness," Draco stared into Snape's eyes, "maybe the same as you did."

Upon hearing the words, the man was taken aback. His sallow face paled, his eyes became lusterless, and a long, deep hole seemed to have been drilled into his darkest past where the bleeding wound only enlarged overtime, incurable however hard he tried.

"So you're asking me to give up?" Draco smiled, "I won't."


	16. Chapter 16 Looking up to Heaven

**A** fter two weeks' repeated experiments, from objects to living animals, when a canary could travel alive freely between the two Vanishing Cabinets, once again, Draco stood before the Headmaster's office. Silent and ugly as the stone gargoyle still was, Draco's feelings had changed dramatically since half a year ago.

He spoke out the password, and stepped onto the spiral staircase, his footsteps echoing in his ears. As he rose upward in circles, higher and higher, bright light pouring down from the far, lofty canopy, in a moment he had the illusion of him ascending to heaven, but he knew deep down that to him, behind the gleaming oak door was exactly the opposite of heaven.

"Come in, though one might wonder how you got the password." called Dumbledore when Draco reached at the top. The door opened silently.

Draco entered. The soothingly aroma of hot tea in the circular room hit him and reminded him that he had missed dinner again. Sitting behind the desk was an old wizard, who was surveying him through his half-moon spectacles, a cup in hand, mildly surprised, and so were the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, many of whom had been awoken and were whispering urgently into their neighbor's ear.

 _So Snape had kept his word. Dumbledore was in the Dark._

Controlling his racing heart, Draco strode confidently forward.

"Good evening, Professor. The password was from Professor Snape who, for a certain reason, had to provide me with the information."

"I see," said Dumbledore, smiling. He flicked his wand, and a teapot ran over to pour another mug of tea. "Why don't you sit down and have a cup of tea with me, Draco, if you don't mind?"

"Thank you," said Draco, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured. "I am not speaking to you as a student now, however, but rather as one of the followers of the Dark Lord."

Hardships as he had endured for this day, and suffered was he for this decision, yet when he spoke, his voice was much calmer than he had expected.

"Well, Draco," said Dumbledore, raising one brow, "Does Lord Voldemort have any message for me?"

"Not exactly," Draco's face paled, but he refrained himself and managed a smile. "Would you still have tea with me?"

"Why not," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "even if Lord Voldemort he himself was here, I would still offer him a drink. This is not a matter of where one stands, my boy."

"That's the difference between you and him," said Draco after a pause, smiling slightly and shaking his head, "that I could sit here and say you are a mad, old fool, but I would have to kneel before him, kissing his robes … One week before the start of last term, the Dark Lord honored me with one task: kill you, or my family die … I can tell you now, that my plan is nearly complete, only the last step waiting to be executed."

"Your plan?"

"Yes, I could open a passage from the outside to the school, a passage that's definitely not in you control. The Death Eaters could swarm into your school via it."

Dumbledore's charred hand stopped at his cup. He stared at Draco quizzically and asked, "How did you do it?"

"I cannot tell you for now, but I guarantee you that everything is ready."

"I must admit your progress is much faster than I'd expected, Draco," said Dumbledore, sighing, "it could have been a plausible plan, but now that you've told me, it might have the opposite effect, and killing me would become less possible."

"Yes, but it could also be a trap by which the Order of Phoenix could get rid of most of the Death Eaters, without whose support the Dark Lord would lose much of his influence. He would need to take much effort to regain his power, and that's the opportunity to defeat him."

"So you are betraying your master," Dumbledore's eyes became piercing. "What do you request of me?"

"I want to help you, telling you everything I know and cooperating with your men, on one condition," Draco drawled, "that my father being released, and my family well protected."

"If you kill me, Lord Voldemort will release Lucius, too."

"That's just a 'if', isn't it? Now that I tell you, it becomes certain."

Dumbledore sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Persuasive … You are clever, and much more brave than I've imagined – nicer too."

"Nice is not a proper compliment for a follower of the Dark Lord, Sir."

"I beg to differ." said Dumbledore easily, leaning on the chair, waving his charred hand. "I knew your task and your predicament, that's why I did not confront you, nor did I plan to discuss it with you. If he used Legilimency against you, or by any means knew my suspicions about you, you would be in grave danger –"

Draco inclined his head and said, "Well, thanks for your concern."

"I must thank you too, for coming to see me today, and for coming over to the right side."

The phoenix standing on a golden perch beside the door let out a low, soft, musical cry.

"I get what I need," Draco turned his gaze away, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes, "I'm not helping you out of so-called goodness."

"Even so, I apologize that I've wrongfully judged you in the past few years. Draco, you've grown up to be an excellent wizard, far beyond your age, and much better than your father. He failed to make up his mind in face of fear, but you did. It would be a huge loss should the wizarding world lose you. I wish you would receive my help –"

"I believe that's why I am here."

"You asked me to protect your family, not yourself; besides, there's a great flaw in your plan, namely, your own safety." Dumbledore's voice turned softer as Draco clenched his fist involuntarily. "Please, tell me the true reason, so that I may help you –"

"Protecting my family is the reason!" shouted Draco.

"If it's just for that, you could simply ask me to hide both your parents and you. I guarantee the place is safer than you can imagine. In fact, I was trying to persuade you to accept this plan instead."

"Yeah," Draco sneered, "hiding, as long as he lives. Like a rat in a hole, until one day being saved."

"If it was Lucius, he wouldn't find anything wrong. You, nevertheless, sounded much more bold than what a Malfoy would do." said Dumbledore gently, "Hiding is not being a coward. No one should send a sixteen-year-old to die; therefore, would you tell me why you insisted on doing this? "

Draco glared at the old man; the latter had a sip of his tea, waiting calmly.

Draco sprang to his feet from his seat, and began to pace in the room, steps wider and feelings angrier. Suddenly he caught sight of the Sorting Hat on a shelf, shabby and tattered, the same as he had seen when he first walked into the castle, when he first met her and thought he had a peep of heaven.

Only he didn't know he would never reach there, but looking up to it, far in hell.

"You just want to know my weakness, do you?" Draco stood by the window, back to Dumbledore, his voice quavering from strong emotion. "Fear and greed, that's how the Dark Lord controls people, but you're different: you want something more complicated, more effective … especially from dark Slytherins like us. Better to know Achilles' heel before you use him, just like you did with Professor Snape?"

"He told you?" asked Dumbledore in astonishment.

Draco paused, immediately regretting his slip. "That was an accident," hissed him, running a hand through his hair, "We shared some secrets. That's why I knew he was your man."

"No wonder … I did ask Severus to inspect your progress, yet he reported me very little." said Dumbledore, nodding his head, stroking his long, silver beard, on which tied a blue bowknot with a silver chain. "I do not wish to control you, Draco, nor do I think I controlled anyone in the past. Severus is also a brave man, and so he decides what he shall do with his life. Fate is so unpredictable, that it's hard enough to have control over our own heart. And as for weaknesses … sometimes I find them quite endearing. They are the evidence that we are alive, that we care, love, and have hopes …"

"The old argument of love!"

"Yes, love. Lord Voldemort thinks that it is nonsense, that he has no weaknesses and that he is invincible. But love defeated him once, and I dare say one day he will meet his doom in ignorance of it again."

"So now when I'm standing here, you think it is for love too?" cried out Draco in a higher pitch. "Maybe you're right about love being a powerful weapon, and maybe it represents some kind of greater good –"

"And you choose to face it and protect it." cut in Dumbledore.

"But it's also the origin of all disasters!" shouted Draco loudly, his face flushing.

Dead silence fell in the room. Later Dumbledore asked quietly, "Then what can I do for you, Draco?"

"You cannot help me," said Draco, leaning his forehead against the cold window, his voice low and hoarse, "Just use me, as long as you end the war. Do as you might to protect the school and –" _and her. Hermione would not leave Potter, and therefore would be in extreme danger_ – "I want you to swear, that you will vanquish him at whatever cost. But please, don't make me say anymore."

"I swear, my dear boy." Dumbledore rose from behind the desk and stood beside him. "The failure of Lord Voldemort is inevitable, yet you however, still has a future –" He stopped, as Draco pulled his sleeve up: there on the bare skin of his forearm was the curling Dark Mark.

"There's no future, Sir." Looking at Dumbledore's shocked expression, Draco said slowly, "I will have it all my life."

The bright blue eyes moistened, filled with great sadness.

"Did it hurt?"

Draco bit his lips, his chest heaving, and then he replied, "Yes, it did."


End file.
